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VOLUME  II 


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PUBLIC  CONFESSION  OF  MADAME 
GRASLIN 


The  dying  woman  appeared,  ***** 
She  knelt  upon  a  cushion,  clasped  her  hands, 
and  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  collecting 
strength  to  speak  front  some  spring  supplied  by 
Heaven.  At  that  moment  there  was  something 
indefinably  terrifying  in  the  silence. 


THE    NOVELS 


OF 


HONORE  DE  BALZAC 


NOW    FOR   THE    FIRST  TIME 
COMPLETELY   TRANSLATED    INTO   ENGLISH 


THE    VILLAGE    CURE 

BY  G.  BURNHAM  IVES 


WITH     FIVE     ETCHINGS     BY    CHARLES      GIROUX,     AFTER 
PAINTINGS    BY    DANIEL    HERNANDEZ 


IN  ONE  VOLUME 


PRINTED  ONLY  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS  BY 

GEORGE  BARRIE  &  SON,  PHILADELPHIA 


COPYRIGHT,  1898,  BY  GEORGE  BARRIE  *  SON 


o 
£ 

t—  « 
CO 

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O 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE 


189968 


VERONIQUE 

In  Lower  Limoges,  at  the  corner  of  Rue  de  la 
Vieille-Poste  and  Rue  de  la  Cite,  there  stood,  thirty 
years  ago,  one  of  those  shops  in  which  nothing 
seems  to  have  been  changed  since  the  Middle  Ages. 
Huge  flagstones,  broken  in  a  thousand  places,  laid 
upon  the  ground  which  showed  damp  in  spots,  would 
have  caused  the  fall  of  anybody  who  had  failed  to 
notice  the  depressions  and  elevations  of  that  strange 
flooring.  The  dusty  walls  exhibited  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  wood  and  brick,  stone  and  iron,  thrown  to- 
gether with  a  solidity  due  to  age,  perhaps  to  chance. 
For  more  than  a  hundred  years,  the  ceiling,  consist- 
ing of  enormous  timbers,  had  bent  without  breaking 
beneath  the  weight  of  the  upper  floors.  Those  floors, 
built  en  colombage,  were  covered  on  the  outside  with 
slates  nailed  in  such  way  as  to  represent  geomet- 
rical figures,  and  presented  an  ingenuous  type  of  the 
bourgeois  structures  of  the  olden  time.  Of  the 
windows,  set  in  wooden  frames  and  once  embel- 
lished with  carvings,  long  since  destroyed  by  the 
vagaries  of  the  weather,  not  one  was  perpendicular; 
some  bulged  out,  others  retreated,  others  seemed  to 

(3) 


4  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

be  falling  apart;  all  of  them  had  in  their  yawning 
cracks  dirt  brought  thither  by  the  rain,  Heaven 
knows  how,  and  in  the  spring  a  few  sickly  flowers 
grew  there,  shrinking  plants  and  slender  grasses. 
The  roof  and  window-sills  were  velvety  with  moss. 
The  pillar  at  the  corner,  although  built  of  composite 
masonry,  that  is  to  say,  of  bricks  mixed  with  stones 
and  flint,  alarmed  one  by  its  curvature:  it  seemed 
that  it  must  give  way  some  day  under  the  weight  of 
the  house,  the  gable  of  which  overhung  about  six 
inches.  So  that  the  municipal  authorities,  the  de- 
partments of  streets  and  buildings,  purchased  the 
building  and  pulled  it  down,  in  order  to  enlarge  the 
square.  This  pillar,  situated  at  the  junction  of  the 
two  streets,  commended  itself  to  persons  interested 
in  the  antiquities  of  Limoges  by  reason  of  a  pretty 
little  carved  niche,  in  which  stood  a  Virgin,  mutilated 
during  the  Revolution.  Bourgeois  with  archaeologi- 
cal leanings  discovered  traces  of  the  stone  ledge  in- 
tended to  hold  the  candelabra  in  which  the  public 
piety  placed  its  lighted  tapers,  its  votive  offerings 
and  flowers. 

At  the  rear  of  the  shop  there  was  a  decayed 
wooden  staircase  leading  to  the  two  upper  floors  and 
the  garret  above  them.  The  house,  which  adjoined 
the  houses  on  each  side,  had  no  depth,  and  received 
no  light  except  through  the  windows.  Each  floor 
contained  only  two  small  rooms,  lighted  each  by  one 
window,  which  in  one  case  looked  on  Rue  de  la 
Cite  and  in  the  other  on  Rue  de  la  Vieille-Poste.  In 
the  Middle  Ages  no  mechanic  had  a  more  comfortable 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  5 

dwelling  than  that.  It  had  evidently  once  belonged 
to  smiths,  armorers,  cutlers,  to  some  masters  whose 
occupation  did  not  dislike  the  open  air;  it  was  im- 
possible to  see  there,  unless  the  iron-bound  shutters 
were  removed  from  both  fronts,  there  being  a  door 
on  each  side  of  the  pillar,  as  in  many  shops  located 
at  the  corner  of  two  streets.  At  each  door,  just  in- 
side the  fine  stone  threshold,  worn  smooth  by  cen- 
turies, began  a  low  wall,  breast-high,  on  top  of  which 
was  a  groove,  corresponding  to  a  groove  in  the 
timber  above,  upon  which  the  upper  walls  rested. 
From  time  immemorial,  there  had  been  heavy 
shutters  to  slide  in  those  grooves;  they  were 
fastened,  when  closed,  by  enormous  bands  of  iron 
bolted  on;  and,  when  the  doors  were  closed  and 
secured  by  similar  means,  the  house  was  trans- 
formed into  a  fortress.  Upon  examining  the  interior, 
which,  during  the  first  twenty  years  of  this  century, 
the  people  of  Limoges  were  accustomed  to  see  filled 
with  old  iron,  copper,  springs,  wheel-tires,  bells,  and 
metal  of  all  sorts  from  demolished  buildings,  those 
persons  who  were  interested  in  this  relic  of  the  old 
city  noticed  the  location  of  a  forge  flue,  indicated  by 
a  long  streak  of  soot,  a  detail  which  confirmed  the 
conjectures  of  antiquarians  as  to  the  original  destina- 
tion of  the  shop.  On  the  first  floor  were  a  bedroom 
and  the  kitchen;  the  second  had  two  bedrooms;  the 
garret  was  used  as  a  store-room  for  more  delicate 
objects  than  those  tossed  pell-mell  about  the  shop. 

This  house  was  at  first  rented,  then  sold  to  one 
Sauviat,  a  travelling  peddler,  who,  from    1792  to 


6  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

1796,  covered  the  country  within  a  radius  of  fifty 
leagues  about  Auvergne,  exchanging  pottery,  plat- 
ters, plates,  glasses,  in  a  word,  household  articles 
required  by  the  poorest  families,  for  old  iron,  copper, 
lead,  metal  of  any  sort,  whatever  disguise  it  might 
have  assumed.  The  Auvergnat  gave  an  earthen- 
ware saucepan  worth  two  sous  for  a  pound  of  lead, 
or  for  two  pounds  of  iron,  a  broken  spade,  a  broken 
hoe,  or  an  old  cracked  kettle;  and,  being  always  the 
judge  in  his  own  cause,  he  weighed  his  junk  himself. 
After  the  third  year,  Sauviat  added  the  trade  of  cop- 
persmith to  his  other  trade.  In  1793  ne  was  able  to 
purchase  a  chateau  sold  as  national  property,  and 
pulled  it  to  pieces;  the  profit  he  made  by  that  trans- 
action he  duplicated  doubtless  at  several  points  in  his 
sphere  of  operations;  later,  these  first  essays  sug- 
gested to  him  the  idea  of  proposing  to  one  of  his 
fellow-provincials  in  Paris  a  similar  business  on  a 
grand  scale.  Thus,  the  Black  Band,  so  famous  by 
reason  of  its  demolitions,  originated  in  the  brain  of 
old  Sauviat  the  peddler,  whom  all  Limoges  saw  for 
twenty-seven  years  in  that  poor  shop,  among  his 
cracked  bells,  his  balances,  his  chains,  his  iron  rods, 
his  twisted  leaden  gutters,  his  old  metal  of  all  sorts; 
we  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that  he  never 
knew  of  the  celebrity  or  the  extensive  operations  of 
that  association;  he  profited  by  it  only  in  proportion 
to  the  funds  entrusted  by  him  to  the  famous  house 
of  Brezac. 

Tired  of   travelling  about  from  fair  to  fair  and 
village  to  village,  the   Auvergnat  settled  down  in 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  7 

Limoges,  where,  in  1797,  he  married  the  daughter 
of  a  widowed  coppersmith  named  Champagnac. 
When  his  father-in-law  died,  he  bought  the  house 
in  which  he  had  established  himself  permanently  as 
a  dealer  in  junk,  after  carrying  on  the  trade  for 
three  years  longer  in  the  country,  in  company  with 
his  wife.  Sauviat  was  approaching  his  fiftieth  year 
when  he  married  old  Champagnac's  daughter,  who 
was  not  less  than  thirty.  Although  she  was  not 
beautiful,  nor  even  pretty,  La  Champagnac  was 
born  in  Auvergne,  and  the  patois  was  a  mutual 
attraction;  then,  too,  she  had  the  stout  frame  that 
enables  women  to  endure  the  severest  toil,  and  she 
accompanied  Sauviat  in  his  wanderings.  She  carried 
iron  or  lead  on  her  back,  and  drew  the  wretched  cart 
full  of  pottery  with  which  her  husband  plied  his 
disguised  usury.  Of  dark,  swarthy  complexion,  in 
perfect  health,  La  Champagnac  showed,  when  she 
laughed,  white  teeth  as  broad  and  long  as  almonds; 
she  had,  too,  the  bust  and  hips  of  those  women 
whom  nature  has  formed  for  mothers.  The  failure 
of  that  stout,  healthy  creature  to  be  married  earlier 
in  life  must  be  attributed  to  the  No  dowry  1  of  Har- 
pagon,  which  her  father  practised,  although  he  had 
never  read  Moliere.  Sauviat  did  not  take  fright  at 
the  No  dowry;  a  man  of  fifty  was  not  likely  to  raise 
questions  of  that  sort,  and  then,  his  wife  would  save 
him  the  expense  of  a  servant.  He  made  no  addi- 
tion to  the  furniture  of  his  bedroom,  where,  from 
the  day  of  his  wedding  to  the  day  he  moved  out, 
there  was  never  anything  more  than  a  four-poster 


8  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

bed  with  a  fluted  valance  and  curtains  of  green 
serge,  a  chest,  a  commode,  four  armchairs,  a  table, 
and  a  mirror,  all  brought  from  different  localities. 
The  upper  part  of  the  chest  contained  a  service  of 
pewter-plate  of  which  no  two  pieces  were  alike. 
Everyone  can  imagine  the  aspect  of  the  kitchen 
which  adjoined  the  bedroom. 

Neither  husband  nor  wife  knew  how  to  read,  a 
trifling  defect  in  their  education,  which  did  not 
prevent  their  being  wonderfully  clever  at  figures, 
and  carrying  on  the  most  flourishing  trade  imagin- 
able. Sauviat  purchased  nothing  which  he  was  not 
certain  of  being  able  to  dispose  of  at  a  profit  of  a 
hundred  per  cent.  To  obviate  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing books  and  an  office,  he  bought  and  sold  exclu- 
sively for  cash.  He  had,  moreover,  such  an  accurate 
memory  that,  if  an  object  remained  in  his  shop 
five  years,  he,  and  his  wife  too,  could  give  you, 
almost  to  a  sou,  the  price  he  paid  for  it,  with 
interest  added  each  year.  Except  while  she  was 
attending  to  her  housekeeping  duties,  La  Sauviat 
was  always  seated  on  a  rickety  wooden  chair  with 
her  back  against  the  corner  pillar;  there  she 
would  sit  and  knit,  watching  the  passers-by,  keep- 
ing an  eye  on  her  old  junk,  selling  it,  weighing 
it,  and  delivering  it  herself,  if  Sauviat  were  away 
upon  a  purchasing  trip.  At  dawn  the  junk-dealer 
would  be  heard  working  at  his  shutters;  the  dog 
would  run  into  the  street,  and  soon  La  Sauviat 
would  appear  and  assist  her  man  to  place  upon 
the  natural  shelves  formed  by  the  low  walls  in 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  9 

Rue  de  la  Vieille-Poste  and  Rue  de  la  Cite,  bells 
large  and  small,  old  springs,  broken  gun-barrels,  the 
small  trash  of  their  trade,  which  served  as  a  sign 
and  gave  a  paltry  aspect  enough  to  that  shop  in 
which  there  frequently  was  twenty  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  lead,  steel,  and  bell-metal. 

The  quondam  peddler  and  his  wife  never  spoke  of 
their  wealth;  they  concealed  it  as  a  malefactor  con- 
ceals a  crime;  they  were  long  suspected  of  clipping 
louis  d'or  and  silver  crowns.  When  Champagnac 
died,  the  Sauviats  returned  no  inventory;  they 
searched,  with  the  cunning  of  rats,  every  corner  of 
his  house,  left  it  as  bare  as  a  corpse,  and  sold 
the  coppersmith's  stock  in  their  own  shop.  Once 
a  year,  in  December,  Sauviat  went  to  Paris,  always 
by  the  public  conveyance.  So  that  his  inquisitive 
neighbors  concluded  that  the  junk-dealer  made  his 
own  investments  in  Paris,  in  order  to  conceal  the 
amount  of  his  fortune.  It  was  known  later  that,  by 
the  advice  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  dealers  in 
metals,  an  Auvergnat  like  himself,  with  whom  he 
had  been  very  intimate  in  his  youth,  he  placed  his 
funds  advantageously  with  the  house  of  Brezac, 
the  corner-stone  of  that  famous  association  known 
as  the  Black  Band,  which  was  formed,  as  we  have 
said,  at  Sauviat's  suggestion,  and  of  which  he  was 
one  of  the  founders. 

Sauviat  was  a  short,  fat  man,  with  a  careworn 
face,  endowed  by  nature  with  an  honest  expres- 
sion which  charmed  the  customer,  and  which  was 
of  great  assistance  to  him  in  selling  his  wares 


10  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

to  advantage.  The  lack  of  warmth  in  his  asser- 
tions, and  the  utter  indifference  of  his  bearing, 
materially  assisted  his  pretensions.  His  ruddy 
complexion  could  hardly  be  distinguished  beneath 
the  black  metallic  dust  with  which  his  pock-marked 
face  and  his  curly  hair  were  covered.  His  fore- 
head did  not  lack  distinction,  it  resembled  the  clas- 
sic forehead  imputed  by  all  painters  to  Saint  Peter, 
the  least  refined,  the  most  plebeian,  and  also  the 
shrewdest  of  the  apostles.  His  hands  were  those  of 
the  untiring  worker,  large  and  thick  and  square- 
fingered,  and  seamed  by  deep  cracks.  His  chest 
was  a  solid  mass  of  muscle.  He  never  laid  aside 
his  peddler's  costume:  heavy  hobnailed  shoes,  blue 
stockings,  knitted  by  his  wife,  and  concealed  be- 
neath leather  gaiters;  bottle-green  velvet  breeches, 
plaid  waistcoat,  from  which  depended  the  copper 
key  of  his  silver  watch  attached  to  an  iron  chain, 
which  use  made  as  shiny  and  polished  as  steel, 
a  jacket  with  short  skirts  made  of  velvet  like  that 
of  the  breeches,  and  around  his  neck  a  necktie  of 
figured  cotton,  frayed  by  the  rubbing  of  his  beard. 
On  Sundays  and  holidays  Sauviat  wore  a  frock-coat 
of  wine-colored  cloth,  so  well  cared  for  that  he  pur- 
chased a  new  one  only  twice  in  twenty  years. 

The  life  of  a  galley-slave  may  be  considered 
luxurious  compared  with  that  of  the  Sauviats;  they 
ate  meat  only  on  church  festival  days.  Before 
giving  up  the  money  necessary  for  their  daily  sub- 
sistence, La  Sauviat  would  fumble  in  the  two  pockets 
hidden  between  her  skirt  and  her  petticoat,  and  she 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  II 

never  produced  aught  but  worn,  clipped  coins, 
crowns  of  six  francs  or  of  fifty  sous,  which  she  gazed 
at  despairingly  before  changing  one  of  them.  Most 
of  the  time  the  Sauviats  contented  themselves  with 
herring,  red  peas,  cheese,  hard-boiled  eggs  mixed 
with  lettuce,  and  vegetables  cooked  in  the  least 
expensive  way.  They  never  laid  in  a  supply  of 
anything,  except  a  few  bunches  of  garlic  or  onions, 
which  nothing  could  spoil  and  which  cost  almost 
nothing.  The  little  wood  which  they  used  in  winter 
La  Sauviat  bought  from  the  itinerant  dealers  who 
passed  the  door,  a  day's  supply  at  once.  At  seven 
o'clock  in  the  winter,  at  nine  in  summer,  the  house- 
hold was  in  bed,  the  shop  closed,  and  guarded  by  a 
huge  dog,  who  stole  his  living  in  the  kitchens  of  the 
neighborhood.  Mere  Sauviat  did  not  spend  three 
francs  for  candles  in  a  year. 

The  sober,  toilsome  life  of  these  people  was 
enlivened  by  a  single  joy,  a  joy  that  came  to 
them  in  due  course  of  nature,  and  for  which  they 
were  guilty  of  their  only  known  extravagance. 

In  May,  1802,  La  Sauviat  had  a  daughter.  She 
brought  the  child  into  the  world  unaided,  and  at- 
tended to  her  household  duties  five  days  later.  She 
nursed  the  child,  sitting  in  her  chair,  in  the  open  air, 
and  selling  old  iron  with  the  little  one  at  her  breast. 
As  her  milk  cost  nothing,  the  child  was  not  weaned 
for  two  years,  and  was  the  better  for  it.  Veronique 
became  the  loveliest  child  in  all  the  lower  town,  the 
passers-by  stopped  to  look  at  her.  Thereupon  the 
neighbors  began  to  detect  some  traces  of  natural 


12  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

feeling  in  old  Sauviat,  whom  they  had  supposed  to 
be  entirely  devoid  of  anything  of  the  sort.  While 
his  wife  was  preparing  dinner,  the  junk-dealer  would 
hold  the  little  one  in  his  arms,  and  rock  it,  singing 
snatches  of  Auvergnat  ditties.  Sometimes  the  work- 
men noticed  him  standing  perfectly  motionless, 
gazing  at  Veronique,  asleep  on  her  mother's  lap. 
For  his  daughter  he  softened  his  harsh  voice,  and 
he  wiped  his  hands  on  his  breeches  before  taking 
her.  When  Veronique  tried  to  walk,  her  father 
would  stoop  and  station  himself  four  or  five  steps 
away  from  her,  holding  out  his  hands  and  making 
grimaces  that  imparted  a  joyous  expression  to  the 
deep,  metallic  folds  of  his  stern  and  forbidding 
features.  That  man  of  lead  and  iron  and  copper 
became  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood  and  bones  once 
more.  If  he  were  sitting  with  his  back  against  his 
pillar,  motionless  as  a  statue,  a  cry  from  Veronique 
would  make  him  start;  he  would  rush  through  the 
heaps  of  old  iron  to  find  her,  for  she  passed  her 
childhood  playing  with  the  debris  of  demolished 
chateaux  piled  in  the  dark  recesses  of  that  vast  shop, 
without  ever  injuring  herself;  she  also  went  out  to 
play  in  the  street  or  at  the  neighbors'  houses,  but 
her  mother  never  lost  sight  of  her. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  state  that  the  Sauviats  were 
eminently  religious.  When  the  Revolution  was  at 
its  height,  Sauviat  observed  Sundays  and  festivals. 
On  two  occasions  he  nearly  lost  his  head  for  going 
to  hear  mass  said  by  a  priest  who  had  not  taken  the 
oath.  At  last  he  was  imprisoned,  justly  accused  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  13 

forwarding  the  flight  of  a  bishop  whose  life  he  had 
saved.  Luckily,  the  travelling  junk-dealer  knew  all 
about  files  and  iron  bars,  so  that  he  was  able  to 
escape;  but  he  was  condemned  to  death  by  default, 
and,  we  may  say  parenthetically,  he  never  appeared 
to  purge  himself  of  the  default,  but  died  in  his  bed. 
His  wife  shared  his  pious  sentiments.  The  family 
avarice  yielded  only  to  the  voice  of  religion.  The 
old  junk-dealers  provided  the  consecrated  bread  with 
scrupulous  exactness,  and  contributed  to  the  offer- 
tory. If  the  vicar  of  Saint-Etienne  came  to  them  to 
ask  alms,  Sauviat  or  his  wife  would  go  at  once, 
without  discussion  or  wry  faces,  to  fetch  what  they 
considered  their  proper  contribution  for  the  poor  of 
the  parish.  The  mutilated  Virgin  on  their  pillar  was 
always,  after  1799,  decorated  with  box  at  Easter. 
In  the  flower  season,  those  who  passed  the  shop 
would  see  her  decked  with  fresh  nosegays,  in  blue- 
glass  vessels,  especially  after  Veronique  was  born. 
On  the  days  of  religious  processions,  the  Sauviats 
were  careful  to  have  their  house  draped  with  black 
cloth  and  flowers,  and  they  contributed  to  the  erec- 
tion and  decoration  of  the  street  altar,  the  pride  of 
their  corner. 

Veronique  Sauviat  therefore  received  the  educa- 
tion of  a  Christian.  From  the  age  of  seven  she 
had  for  her  teacher  an  Auvergnat  Gray  Nun,  to 
whom  the  Sauviats  had  rendered  some  trifling  ser- 
vices. Both  of  them,  being  very  ready  to  oblige  so 
long  as  nothing  but  their  personal  efforts  or  their 
time  was  concerned,  were  excellent  neighbors,  after 


14  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

the  manner  of  poor  people,  who  generally  give  their 
services  with  much  warmth.  The  Gray  Nun  taught 
Veronique  to  read  and  write,  she  instructed  her  in 
the  history  of  God's  people,  the  catechism,  the  Old 
and  New  Testament,  and  the  rudiments  of  arith- 
metic. That  was  all;  the  sister  thought  that  it 
would  be  enough,  but  it  was  too  much. 

At  nine  years  of  age,  Veronique's  beauty  was  a 
source  of  amazement  throughout  the  quarter.  Every- 
one admired  a  face  which  might  some  day  be  a  wor- 
thy subject  for  the  brush  of  painters  who  were  most 
earnest  in  their  quest  of  ideal  beauty.  She  was 
nicknamed  the  Little  Virgin,  and  she  promised  to 
be  well-made  and  fair.  Her  madonna-like  face — 
for  the  popular  voice  had  well  named  her — was  com- 
plemented by  an  abundance  of  fine  light  hair,  which 
set  off  the  purity  of  her  features.  Whoever  has 
seen  Titian's  sublime  little  Virgin  in  his  great  picture 
of  the  Presentation  at  the  Temple,  will  understand 
what  Veronique  was  in  her  childhood:  the  same  art- 
less innocence,  the  same  seraphic  astonishment  in 
her  eyes,  the  same  noble  yet  simple  manner,  the 
same  infantile  carriage.  At  the  age  of  eleven  she 
had  the  small-pox,  and  owed  her  life  solely  to  the 
care  of  Sister  Marthe.  During  the  two  months  that 
their  child  was  in  danger,  the  Sauviats  allowed  the 
whole  quarter  to  judge  of  the  depth  of  their  affec- 
tion for  her.  Sauviat  ceased  to  attend  sales,  he 
passed  all  his  time  in  the  shop,  going  up  to  his 
daughter's  room  and  down  again  every  moment, 
and  sitting  up  with  her  all  night,  in  company  with 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  15 

his  wife.  His  silent  grief  seemed  so  intense  that  no 
one  dared  speak  to  him;  the  neighbors  gazed  com- 
passionately at  him,  but  confined  their  inquiries  for 
news  to  Sister  Marthe.  During  the  days  when  the 
disease  was  at  its  height,  the  passers-by  and  the 
neighbors  saw,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  Sauviat's 
life,  tears  glistening  for  a  long  time  between  his  eye- 
lids and  rolling  down  his  hollow  cheeks.  He  did  not 
wipe  them  away,  he  would  sit  for  hours  like  one 
dazed,  afraid  to  go  up  to  his  daughter's  room,  looking 
without  seeing;  he  could  easily  have  been  robbed! 
Veronique  was  saved,  but  her  beauty  died.  That 
face,  with  its  smooth,  harmoniously  blended  brown 
and  red  complexion,  was  marked  with  innumerable 
pits,  which  roughened  the  skin,  playing  havoc  with 
its  fair,  smooth  surface.  The  brow  could  not  escape 
the  ravages  of  the  scourge,  it  became  discolored,  and 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  dented  with  a  hammer. 
Nothing  can  be  more  discordant  than  that  brick-red 
skin  against  fair  hair,  it  puts  an  end  to  pre-existing 
harmony.  Those  deep,  capricious  ruptures  of  the 
tissue  marred  the  purity  of  the  profile,  the  delicate 
outline  of  the  face,  of  the  nose,  whose  Grecian  shape 
could  hardly  be  distinguished,  and  of  the  chin,  once  as 
delicate  as  the  rim  of  a  porcelain  vase.  The  disease 
respected  only  what  it  could  not  reach,  the  eyes  and 
the  teeth.  Nor  did  Veronique  lose  her  bodily  grace 
and  beauty,  the  rounded  fulness  of  her  outlines,  or 
the  fine  shape  of  her  waist.  She  was,  at  fifteen,  a 
comely  young  woman,  and — a  consideration  that 
comforted  the  Sauviats  for  the  loss  of  her  loveliness — 


16  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

a  devout,  virtuous  girl,  active,  hard-working,  and 
domestic  in  her  tastes. 

During  her  convalescence  and  after  her  first  com- 
munion, her  father  and  mother  gave  her  the  two 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  for  her  private  apart- 
ments. At  that  period,  Sauviat,  harsh  as  he  was  to 
himself  and  his  wife,  began  to  form  some  suspicions 
of  comfortable  living;  he  conceived  a  vague  idea  of 
consoling  his  daughter  for  a  loss  of  which  she  as 
yet  knew  nothing.  The  passing  of  the  beauty  that 
was  the  pride  of  those  two  creatures  made  Vero- 
nique  even  dearer  and  more  precious  to  them.  One 
day  Sauviat  brought  home  a  second-hand  carpet  on 
his  back,  and  nailed  it  on  Veronique's  floor  with  his 
own  hand.  He  laid  aside  for  her,  at  the  sale  of  a 
chateau,  a  great  lady's  red  damask  bed,  and  the 
curtains,  armchairs,  and  common  chairs  covered 
with  the  same  material.  He  furnished  the  two 
rooms  occupied  by  his  daughter  with  old  articles  of 
furniture  of  whose  value  she  had  no  idea.  He 
placed  jars  of  mignonette  on  her  window-sill,  and 
brought  back  with  him  from  his  trips  sometimes 
rose-bushes,  sometimes  pinks,  flowers  of  all  sorts, 
given  him  in  all  probability  by  gardeners  or  inn- 
keepers. If  Veronique  had  been  able  to  make 
comparisons,  and  had  realized  the  characters,  the 
manners,  the  ignorance  of  her  parents,  she  would 
have  understood  how  much  affection  there  was  in 
these  trivial  incidents;  but  she  loved  them  with 
charming  naturalness  and  without  reflection.  Vero- 
nique had  the  finest  linen  that  her  mother  could  find 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  17 

at  the  drapers'.  La  Sauviat  gave  her  daughter  per- 
mission to  buy  whatever  materials  she  desired  for 
her  dresses.  Both  father  and  mother  were  delighted 
by  the  modesty  of  their  daughter,  who  had  no  extrav- 
agant tastes.  Veronique  contented  herself  with  a 
blue  silk  dress  for  fete-days,  and  wore,  on  working- 
days,  a  coarse  merino  in  winter  and  a  striped  calico  in 
summer.  On  Sundays  she  attended  divine  service 
with  her  father  and  mother,  and  after  vespers  walked 
along  the  Vienne  or  in  the  suburbs.  On  ordinary 
days  she  remained  in  her  room,  occupied  with  tap- 
estry, the  price  of  which  belonged  to  the  poor;  thus 
it  will  be  seen  that  her  manners  were  of  the  simplest, 
the  most  chaste,  and  most  exemplary.  Sometimes 
she  made  linen  for  the  hospital.  She  interspersed  her 
work  with  reading,  and  read  only  such  books  as  were 
lent  her  by  the  vicar  of  Saint-Etienne,  a  priest  who 
had  been  introduced  to  the  Sauviats  by  Sister  Marthe. 

So  far  as  Veronique  was  concerned,  the  laws  of 
domestic  economy  were  entirely  suspended.  Her 
mother  took  delight  in  serving  her  with  choice  food, 
and  cooked  for  her  separately.  The  father  and 
mother  continued  to  eat  their  nuts,  their  dry  bread, 
their  herrings,  their  fricasseed  peas  with  salted 
butter,  whereas  nothing  was  fresh  enough  or  good 
enough  for  Veronique. 

"  Veronique  must  cost  you  a  great  deal,"  said  a 
hatmaker  one  day,  whose  shop  was  opposite  the 
Sauviats,  and  who  had  designs  upon  Veronique  in 
his  son's  behalf,  estimating  the  old  junk-dealer's 
fortune  at  a  hundred  thousand  francs. 


18  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"Yes,  neighbor,  yes,  neighbor,  yes!"  replied  old 
Sauviat;  "  if  she  was  to  ask  me  for  ten  crowns,  I'd 
give  'em  to  her  all  the  same.  She  has  all  she 
wants,  but  she  never  asks  for  anything.  She's  as 
gentle  as  a  lamb!" 

In  fact,  Veronique  had  no  idea  of  the  price  of  any- 
thing; she  had  never  needed  anything;  she  never 
.saw  any  gold  pieces  until  the  day  of  her  wedding, 
she  never  had  a  purse  of  her  own;  her  mother 
bought  and  gave  her  everything  she  wanted,  so 
that  she  felt  in  her  mother's  pocket  for  alms  for  a 
beggar. 

"  Then  she  don't  cost  you  much,"  said  the  hat- 
maker. 

"  You  think  so,  do  you?"  replied  Sauviat.  "  You 
wouldn't  get  out  of  it  whole  at  forty  crowns  a  year. 
And  her  room!  why,  she  has  a  good  hundred  crowns 
in  furniture  in  her  room;  but  when  a  man  has  only 
one  daughter,  he  can  afford  to  let  himself  out. 
After  all,  the  little  we  own  will  all  be  hers." 

"  Little?  You  must  be  a  rich  man,  Pere  Sauviat. 
For  forty  years  you've  been  carrying  on  a  trade  in 
which  there's  no  losses." 

"  Oh!  no  one  would  hit  me  hard  for  twelve  hun- 
dred francs,"  retorted  the  old  junk-dealer. 

From  the  day  that  Veronique  lost  the  placid  beauty 
that  won  public  admiration  for  her  face  as  a  young 
girl,  Pere  Sauviat  redoubled  his  activity.  His  trade 
increased  so  rapidly,  that  he  made  several  trips  to 
Paris  each  year  thereafter.  Everyone  understood 
that  it  was  his  purpose  to  make  up  in  money  for 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  19 

what  he  called,  in  the  language  of  the  trade,  the 
waste  caused  by  his  daughter.  When  Veronique 
was  fifteen  years  old,  a  change  took  place  in  the  do- 
mestic habits  of  the  family.  The  father  and  mother 
went  up  every  evening  to  their  daughter's  rooms, 
and  she  read  to  them,  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  placed 
behind  a  glass  globe  filled  with  water,  the  Lives  of 
the  Saints,  Edifying  Letters, — in  fact,  all  the  books 
lent  her  by  the  vicar.  La  Sauviat  knitted,  think- 
ing that  in  that  way  she  earned  the  price  of  the  oil. 
The  neighbors  could  see  from  their  houses  the  two 
old  people  sitting  bolt  upright  in  their  chairs,  like 
two  Chinese  figures,  listening  to  their  daughter  and 
admiring  her  with  all  the  strength  of  intellects  that 
were  obtuse  to  everything  that  was  not  business  or 
religious  faith.  Doubtless  there  have  been  in  the 
world  girls  as  pure  as  Veronique,  but  never  was 
there  a  purer  or  more  modest  one.  Her  confession 
must  have  astounded  the  angels  and  rejoiced  the 
heart  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  At  sixteen  she  was 
fully  developed  and  showed  what  she  was  to  be. 
She  was  of  medium  height,  neither  her  father  nor 
mother  being  tall;  but  her  figure  was  noticeable  for 
its  lithe  grace,  for  those  attractive  sinuous  outlines 
which  painters  strive  so  laboriously  to  reproduce  and 
which  nature  draws  with  such  delicacy  of  touch,  their 
graceful  contours  being  always  visible  to  the  eye  of 
the  connoisseur,  despite  the  linen  and  the  thickness 
of  the  outer  garments,  which  always  adapt  them- 
selves and  shape  themselves  to  the  nude  figure, 
whatever  one  may  do.  Genuine,  simple,  natural, 


20  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Veronique  displayed  her  beauty  to  the  utmost  ad- 
vantage by  movements  entirely  free  from  affecta- 
tion. It  had  its  full  force  and  effect,  if  we  may  be 
allowed  to  borrow  that  emphatic  expression  from  the 
technical  language  of  the  law.  She  had  the  well- 
rounded  arms  of  the  women  of  Auvergne,  the  plump, 
red  hand  of  a  comely  tavern  girl,  large  feet,  but  well- 
shaped  and  in  proportion  to  her  form.  A  phenome- 
non was  manifested  in  her,  a  fascinating,  wonder- 
ful phenomenon,  which  revealed  to  loving  eyes 
a  woman  who  was  hidden  from  all  others'  sight. 
That  phenomenon  may  have  been  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  admiration  manifested  by  her  father  and 
mother  for  her  beauty,  which  they  called  divine, 
to  the  vast  amazement  of  the  neighbors.  The 
first  persons  who  noticed  it  were  the  priests  at 
the  cathedral  and  the  faithful  who  partook  of  the 
sacrament.  When  any  violent  emotion  made  itself 
manifest  in  Veronique, — and  the  religious  exalta- 
tion  that  overcame  her  when  she  partook  of  com- 
munion was  certain  to  be  among  the  most  intense 
emotions  of  so  pure-minded  a  girl, — it  seemed  that 
the  rays  of  an  internal  light  effaced  the  marks  of  the 
small-pox.  The  pure  and  radiant  face  of  her  child- 
hood reappeared  in  its  primitive  loveliness.  Although 
slightly  veiled  by  the  rough  surface  spread  over  it  by 
the  disease,  it  shone  as  a  flower  shines  mysteriously 
beneath  the  water  of  the  sea,  when  the  rays  of  the 
sun  penetrate  it.  For  a  few  moments  Veronique 
was  changed:  the  Little  Virgin  appeared  and  dis- 
appeared like  a  celestial  apparition.  The  pupils  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  21 

her  eyes,  which  were  capable  of  contraction  to  an 
extraordinary  degree,  seemed  at  such  times  to  ex- 
pand and  pressed  back  the  blue  of  the  iris,  which 
then  formed  a  very  slight  circle.  This  metamorpho- 
sis of  the  eye,  which  became  as  keen  and  bright  as 
the  eagle's,  completed  the  singular  change  in  her 
face.  Was  it  the  tempest  of  restrained  passions, 
was  it  a  force  from  the  depths  of  the  soul  which 
expanded  the  pupil  in  broad  daylight,  as  with  most 
people  it  expands  in  the  darkness,  thus  shading  with 
brown  the  azure  hue  of  those  heavenly  eyes?  What- 
ever it  may  have  been,  it  was  impossible  to  gaze  un- 
moved upon  Veronique  when  she  returned  from  the 
altar  to  her  place  after  being  made  one  with  God,  and 
showed  herself  to  the  congregation  in  her  former  re- 
splendent loveliness.  At  such  times  her  beauty  would 
have  outshone  that  of  the  most  beautiful  women. 
What  fascination  to  an  enamored  and  jealous  man  in 
that  veil  of  flesh  which  would  hide  the.  wife  from  all 
eyes,  a  veil  which  the  hand  of  love  would  raise  and 
let  fall  again  upon  legitimate  joys!  Veronique  had  a 
pair  of  lips,  beautifully  curved,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  painted  a  bright  vermilion,  the  pure,  warm  blood 
so  abounded  in  them.  Her  chin  and  the  lower  part  of 
her  face  were  a  little  heavy,  using  the  word  in  the 
acceptation  given  it  by  painters,  and  that  heaviness 
is,  according  to  the  inexorable  laws  of  physiognomy, 
an  indication  of  a  quasi-morbid  intensity  of  passion. 
Above  her  well-modelled  but  almost  imperious  brow 
was  a  superb  diadem  of  luxuriant  hair,  which  had 
become  a  rich  chestnut  in  color. 


22  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

From  her  sixteenth  birthday  to  the  day  of  her 
marriage,  Veronique's  bearing  was  constantly  pen- 
sive and  melancholy.  In  such  profound  solitude  she 
was  certain  to  examine,  as  hermits  do,  the  great 
spectacle  of  what  was  taking  place  within  herself: 
the  progress  of  her  thoughts,  the  variety  of  the 
images  presented  to  her  mind,  and  the  upward  flight 
of  emotions  kindled  by  a  pure  life.  Those  persons 
who  raised  their  eyes,  as  they  passed  through  Rue 
de  la  Cite  on  a  fine  day,  could  see  Sauviat's 
daughter  sitting  at  her  window,  sewing,  embroider- 
ing, or  holding  the  needle  over  her  canvas  with  a 
dreamy  air.  Her  head  stood  out  sharply  among  the 
flowers  which  gave  a  touch  of  poetry  to  the  weather- 
beaten,  cracked  sill  of  her  windows,  with  their  panes 
set  in  a  network  of  lead.  Sometimes  the  reflection 
of  the  red  damask  curtains  added  to  the  effect  of  that 
face,  already  so  richly  colored;  like  a  dark-hued 
flower,  she  reigned  over  the  aerial  garden  so  sedu- 
lously cared  for  by  her  upon  her  window-sill. 

Thus  that  simple  old  house  contained  something 
even  more  simple  than  itself:  a  portrait  of  a  young 
girl  worthy  of  Mieris,  Van  Ostade,  Terburg,  or 
Gerard  Dow,  framed  in  one  of  those  old  tumble- 
down windows,  defaced  and  dark  with  age,  which 
appealed  so  strongly  to  their  brushes.  When  a 
stranger,  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  the  building, 
stood  gazing  up  in  open-mouthed  amazement  at  the 
second  floor,  old  Sauviat  would  protrude  his  head 
until  it  was  outside  the  line  of  the  overhang,  sure 
of  finding  his  daughter  at  her  window.  Then  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  23 

junk-dealer  would  draw  in  his  head,  and  say  to  his 
wife,  in  the  Auvergnat  patois,  rubbing  his  hands 
gleefully: 

"I  say,  old  lady,  he's  admiring  your  daughter!" 

In  1820,  there  occurred  in  Veronique's  simple  and 
uneventful  life  an  incident  which  would  have  been 
of  no  consequence  in  the  case  of  any  other  young 
woman,  but  which  may,  perhaps,  have  exercised  a 
deplorable  influence  upon  her  future.  On  the  day 
of  a  former  church  festival,  which  had  been  sup- 
pressed, a  day  which  was  a  working-day  for  the 
whole  city,  but  on  which  the  Sauviats  closed  their 
shop,  attended  church,  and  went  to  walk,  Veronique, 
on  her  way  to  the  open  country,  passed  a  book- 
stall in  which  she  saw  the  story  of  Paul  et  Virginie. 
The  whim  seized  her  to  purchase  it,  on  account  of 
the  illustrations;  her  father  paid  a  hundred  sous  for 
the  fatal  volume,  and  placed  it  in  the  capacious 
pocket  of  his  Sunday  coat. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  show  it  to  monsieur  le 
vicaire?"  said  her  mother,  to  whom  every  printed 
book  always  had  a  slight  flavor  of  magic. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  it!"  replied  Veronique,  simply. 

The  child  passed  the  night  reading  that  romance, 
one  of  the  most  touching  books  in  the  French 
language.  The  description  of  that  mutual  passion, 
semi-biblical,  and  worthy  of  the  early  ages  of  the 
world,  wrought  havoc  in  Veronique's  heart.  A 
hand,  should  we  call  it  divine  or  diabolic,  re- 
moved the  veil  which  had  thus  far  concealed  nature 
from  her.  The  Little  Virgin  buried  in  the  lovely 


24  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

maiden  found  her  flowers  lovelier  the  next  morning 
than  they  were  the  day  before,  she  understood  their 
symbolic  language,  she  scrutinized  the  blue  vault  of 
heaven  with  a  fixed  gaze  overflowing  with  mental 
exultation,  and  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  without 
cause.  In  the  lives  of  all  women  there  comes  a 
moment  when  they  realize  their  destiny,  when  their 
temperament,  hitherto  mute,  speaks  in  a  tone  of 
authority;  it  is  not  always  a  man  selected  by  an  in- 
voluntary, stealthy  glance  who  awakens  their  slum- 
bering sixth  sense,  but  more  frequently,  perhaps, 
an  unexpected  spectacle,  a  lovely  view,  a  book,  the 
sight  of  a  gorgeous  religious  ceremony,  a  blending  of 
natural  perfumes,  a  beautiful  morning  with  its  veil 
of  delicate  vapor,  a  strain  of  divine  music  with 
notes  that  caress  the  ear,  in  a  word,  some  unfore- 
seen cause  of  emotion  in  the  mind  or  in  the  body. 
To  that  solitary  girl,  confined  in  that  gloomy  house, 
reared  by  simple-minded,  quasi-rustic  parents,  a  girl 
who  had  never  heard  an  improper  word,  whose 
innocent  mind  had  never  been  approached  by  the 
slightest  evil  thought;  to  the  angelic  pupil  of  Sister 
Marthe  and  the  good  vicar  of  Saint-Etienne,  the 
revelation  of  love,  which  is  woman's  life,  was  made 
by  a  lovely  book,  by  the  hand  of  genius.  To  any 
other,  the  reading  would  have  been  free  from  danger; 
to  her,  that  book  was  worse  than  an  obscene  book. 
Corruption  is  a  relative  term.  There  are  sublime, 
virgin  natures  which  are  corrupted  by  a  single 
thought;  it  causes  the  more  damage  because  the 
necessity  of  resistance  is  not  anticipated. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  25 

The  next  day  Veronique  showed  the  book  to  the 
good  priest,  who  approved  the  purchase,  Paul  et 
Virginie  being  reputed  to  be  so  childlike,  so  innocent 
and  pure.  But  the  heat  of  the  tropics  and  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape,  the  almost  childlike  inno- 
cence of  an  almost  holy  love,  had  had  their  effect 
upon  Veronique.  She  was  led  on  by  the  sweet  and 
noble  face  of  the  author  to  the  worship  of  the  ideal, 
that  fatal  human  religion!  She  dreamed  of  having 
for  her  lover  a  young  man  like  Paul.  Her  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  voluptuous  pictures  in  an  island  filled 
with  sweet  fragrance.  In  her  childish  fancy  she 
called  an  island  in  the  Vienne,  below  Limoges, 
almost  opposite  Faubourg  Saint-Martial,  He  de 
France.  There  her  mind  dwelt  on  the  imaginary 
world  which  all  girls  create  for  themselves,  and 
which  they  enrich  with  their  own  charms.  She  sat 
long  hours  at  her  window,  watching  the  mechanics 
pass,  the  only  class  of  men  of  whom  she  was  allowed 
to  think,  in  view  of  her  parents'  modest  station.  Ac- 
customed, doubtless,  to  the  idea  of  marrying  a  man 
of  the  people,  she  discovered  in  herself  instincts 
which  repelled  anything  in  the  nature  of  vulgarity. 
In  that  situation,  she  could  not  fail  to  amuse  herself 
by  composing  some  of  those  romances  which  all 
girls  compose  for  themselves  alone.  She  embraced, 
perhaps  with  the  ardor  natural  to  a  refined  and 
virgin  imagination,  the  laudable  idea  of  ennobling 
one  of  those  men,  of  raising  him  to  the  height  to 
which  she  was  raised  by  her  dreams:  it  may  be 
that  she  made  a  Paul  of  some  young  man  selected 


26  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

by  her  glances,  simply  that  she  might  fasten  her 
wild  ideas  upon  a  human  being,  as  the  vapors  of 
the  damp  atmosphere,  when  seized  upon  by  the 
frost,  crystallize  on  the  branches  by  the  roadside. 
She  was  likely  to  plunge  into  some  deep  abyss,  for, 
although  she  often  seemed  to  be  returning  to  earth 
from  a  great  height,  with  a  luminous  reflection  upon 
her  brow,  yet  oftener  she  seemed  to  hold  in  her 
hand  flowers  plucked  on  the  bank  of  some  mountain 
stream  which  she  had  followed  to  the  foot  of  a  preci- 
pice. On  warm  evenings  she  asked  her  old  father 
for  his  arm  and  never  failed  to  walk  along  the  banks 
of  the  Vienne,  where  she  would  go  into  ecstasies 
over  the  beauties  of  the  country  and  the  sky, 
over  the  magnificent  ruddy  hues  of  the  setting 
sun,  over  the  dainty  beauties  of  the  dewy  morn- 
ing. Her  mind  exhaled  the  perfume  of  natural 
poesy.  Her  hair,  which  she  formerly  braided  and 
twisted  simply  on  top  of  her  head,  she  brushed 
and  curled  with  care.  Her  toilet  denoted  some 
thought.  The  vine,  which  grew  wild,  and  had 
thrown  itself  naturally  into  the  arms  of  the  old  elm, 
was  transplanted,  trimmed,  and  trained  over  a  neat 
green  trellis. 

On  returning  from  a  trip  to  Paris,  in  December, 
1822,  old  Sauviat,  then  seventy  years  of  age,  re- 
ceived a  visit  from  the  vicar,  who  said  to  him,  after 
divers  unimportant  remarks: 

"Sauviat,  think  about  finding  a  husband  for  your 
daughter!  At  your  age,  you  should  not  longer  post- 
pone the  performance  of  an  important  duty." 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  27 

"  But  does  Veronique  want  to  marry?'*  exclaimed 
the  amazed  old  man. 

"As  you  please,  father,"  she  replied,  lowering 
her  eyes. 

"We  will  marry  her,"  cried  old  Mere  Sauviat, 
with  a  smile. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  something  about  it  before 
I  went  away,  mother?"  rejoined  Sauviat.  "I  shall 
have  to  go  back  to  Paris." 

Jean-Baptiste  Sauviat,  like  a  man  in  whose  eyes 
fortune  seemed  to  constitute  the  whole  of  happiness, 
who  had  never  seen  aught  but  need  in  love,  and 
in  marriage  aught  but  a  method  of  transmitting 
one's  property  to  another  self,  had  sworn  to  marry 
Veronique  to  a  rich  bourgeois.  That  idea  had  long 
since  assumed  the  shape  of  a  fixed  purpose  in  his 
brain.  His  neighbor,  the  hatmaker,  who  had  an 
income  of  two  thousand  francs,  had  already  solic- 
ited for  his  son,  to  whom  he  agreed  to  make  over 
his  establishment,  the  hand  of  a  maiden  so  re- 
nowned as  Veronique  was  throughout  the  neighbor- 
hood, by  reason  of  her  exemplary  behavior  and  her 
Christian  morals.  Sauviat  had  politely  refused,  with- 
out mentioning  the  subject  to  Veronique.  On  the 
day  following  that  on  which  the  vicar,  an  import- 
ant personage  in  the  eyes  of  the  Sauviat  house- 
hold, had  spoken  of  the  necessity  of  marrying 
Veronique,  whose  spiritual  director  he  was,  the  old 
man  shaved  and  dressed  himself  as  if  for  a  holiday, 
and  went  out  without  saying  a  word  to  his  daughter 
or  his  wife.  Both  understood  that  the  father  had 


28  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

gone  in  search  of  a  son-in-law.     Old  Sauviat  called 
upon  his  friend  Graslin. 

Monsieur  Graslin,  a  wealthy  banker  of  Limoges, 
was,  like  Sauviat,  a  man  who  had  started  out  from 
Auvergne  without  a  sou,  had  risen  to  the  dignity 
of  messenger,  and,  obtaining  employment  as  office- 
boy  in  a  banking  establishment,  had,  like  many 
financiers,  made  his  way  by  strict  economy  and 
fortunate  combinations.  A  cashier  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five,  and  for  ten  years  thereafter  a  partner 
in  the  house  of  Ferret  and  Grosset&te,  he  had  at 
last  become  the  head  of  the  establishment  after 
purchasing  the  interest  of  those  old  bankers,  both 
of  whom  had  retired  and  gone  into  the  country, 
leaving  their  funds  in  his  hands  in  consideration 
of  a  small  amount  of  interest.  Pierre  Graslin,  who 
was  forty-seven  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  which 
we  write,  was  reputed  to  be  worth  at  least  six 
hundred  thousand  francs.'  Common  rumor  in  the 
province  had  recently  added  to  the  amount  of  his 
fortune:  one  and  all  had  applauded  his  generosity, 
which  consisted  in  building  for  himself  in  the  new 
quarter  of  Place  des  Arbres,  a  quarter  destined 
to  add  to  the  external  attractions  of  Limoges,  a 
fine  house  on  the  line  of  the  square,  its  facade 
conforming  to  that  of  a  public  building.  Pierre 
Graslin  hesitated  about  furnishing  that  house,  which 
had  been  finished  six  months;  it  cost  him  so  much 
that  he  postponed  the  moment  of  taking  up  his 
habitation  in  it.  Possibly  his  pride  had  carried  him 
beyond  the  laws  of  prudence  which  had  governed 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  29 

his  life  hitherto.  With  the  good  sense  of  the  man 
of  business,  he  realized  that  the  interior  of  his 
house  should  be  in  harmony  with  the  style  of  its 
facade.  The  furniture,  the  silver  plate,  and  the 
necessary  accessories  of  the  life  he  would  lead  in 
his  new  mansion  would,  according  to  his  reckon- 
ing, cost  as  much  as  the  building  itself.  Despite 
the  remarks  of  the  town,  and  the  jests  of  the 
business  world,  despite  the  charitable  conjectures 
of  his  neighbor,  he  remained  mewed  up  in  the  old, 
damp,  and  dirty  ground-floor  in  Rue  Montantmanigne, 
where  his  fortune  had  been  made.  The  public 
chattered,  but  Graslin  had  the  approval  of  his 
two  old  silent  partners,  who  praised  him  for  his 
unusual  firmness.  A  great  fortune  and  an  exist- 
ence like  Graslin's  were  certain  to  arouse  the  envy 
of  many  persons  in  a  provincial  town.  So  that 
more  than  one  project  of  marriage  had  been  hinted 
at  to  Monsieur  Graslin  within  ten  years.  But  the 
condition  of  bachelor  was  so  well  suited  to  a  man 
who  was  busy  from  morning  to  night,  constantly 
fatigued  by  travel,  overburdened  with  work,  and 
as  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  business  as  ever  hunter 
was  in  pursuit  of  game,  that  Graslin  fell  into  none 
of  the  traps  set  by  ambitious  mothers,  who  coveted 
that  brilliant  position  for  their  daughters. 

Graslin,  a  Sauviat  in  a  higher  sphere,  did  not 
spend  forty  sous  a  day,  and  went  about  dressed  like 
an  under-clerk.  Two  clerks  and  an  office-boy  were 
all  he  required  in  the  conduct  of  his  business,  which 
was  immense  in  its  multiplicity  of  details.  One 


30  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

clerk  attended  to  the  correspondence,  another  acted 
as  cashier.  But  Pierre  Graslin  was  the  mind  and 
the  body  of  the  business.  His  clerks,  taken  from 
his  own  family,  were  reliable,  intelligent  men, 
inured  to  work,  like  himself.  As  for  the  office- 
boy,  he  led  the  life  of  a  cart-horse.  Graslin  rose 
at  five  o'clock,  the  year  round,  and  never  retired 
until  eleven.  He  hired  a  woman,  an  old  Auvergnat, 
by  the  day,  to  do  his  cooking.  The  brown  earthen- 
ware dishes,  the  strong,  coarse  household  linen,  were 
in  harmony  with  the  general  character  of  the  house- 
hold. The  Auvergnat  had  orders  never  to  expend 
more  than  three  francs  for  the  total  daily  expenses 
of  housekeeping.  The  boy-of -all-work  acted  as  man- 
servant. The  clerks  did  their  own  chamber-work. 
The  blackened  tables,  the  dilapidated  straw-seated 
chairs,  the  pigeon-holes,  the  wretched  wooden  beds, 
in  a  word,  all  the  furniture  of  the  counting-room, 
and  the  three  chambers  overhead,  was  not  worth  a 
thousand  francs,  including  a  colossal  iron  safe  set 
into  the  wall,  a  legacy  from  his  predecessors,  in 
front  of  which  the  boy  slept  with  two  dogs  at  his 
feet. 

Graslin  did  not  go  much  into  society,  where  he 
was  so  much  talked  about.  Two  or  three  times  a 
year  he  dined  with  the  receiver-general,  with  whom 
he  was  constantly  brought  in  contact  in  matters  of 
business.  He  sometimes  dined  at  the  prefecture:  he 
had  been  appointed  a  member  of  the  general  council 
of  the  department,  to  his  great  regret.  "It  was  a 
waste  of  time,"  he  said.  Sometimes  his  business 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  31 

associates,  when  he  was  negotiating  transactions 
with  them,  kept  him  to  breakfast  or  to  dinner.  And 
he  was  in  duty  bound  to  visit  his  former  employers, 
who  passed  their  winters  at  Limoges.  He  cared  so 
little  for  social  connections  that,  in  twenty-five 
years,  he  had  not  offered  so  much  as  a  glass  of 
water  to  any  man  on  earth.  When  Graslin  passed 
through  the  street,  people  pointed  him  out  to  one 
another,  saying:  "There's  Monsieur  Graslin!" 
which  was  equivalent  to:  "  There's  a  man  who 
came  to  Limoges  without  a  sou  and  has  built  up  an 
immense  fortune!"  The  Auvergnat  banker  was 
held  up  by  more  than  one  father  as  a  model  for  his 
child  to  follow,  he  was  an  epigram  that  more  than 
one  wife  threw  in  her  husband's  face.  It  is  easy  to 
understand  by  what  sequence  of  ideas  this  man,  who 
had  become  the  pivot  of  all  the  financial  machinery 
of  the  Limousin,  was  led  to  reject  the  various  pro- 
posals of  marriage  which  people  did  not  tire  of 
making  to  him.  The  daughters  of  Messieurs  Ferret 
and  Grossete"te  had  been  married  before  Graslin 
was  in  a  position  to  marry  them;  but,  as  all  of 
those  ladies  had  young  daughters,  Graslin  was  at 
last  left  in  peace,  on  the  assumption  that  either 
old  Ferret  or  the  crafty  Grossete"te  had  arranged 
beforehand  for  Graslin 's  union  with  one  of  their 
granddaughters. 

Sauviat  followed  more  closely  and  more  seriously 
than  anyone  the  upward  march  of  his  compatriot;  he 
had  known  him  at  the  time  of  his  first  settlement  in 
Limoges;  but  their  respective  positions  changed  so 


32  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

materially,  at  least  in  appearance,  that  their  friend- 
ship had  become  superficial  and  was  rarely  refreshed. 
Nevertheless,  in  his  capacity  of  compatriot,  Graslin 
never  disdained  to  talk  with  Sauviat,  when  they 
happened  to  meet.  Both  of  them  had  retained  their 
primitive  familiar  form  of  address,  but  only  in  the 
Auvergne  patois.  When  the  receiver-general  at 
Bourges,  the  youngest  of  the  Grossete"te  brothers, 
married  his  daughter,  in  1823,  to  the  youngest  son 
of  the  Comte  de  Fontaine,  Sauviat  guessed  that  the 
Grossete"tes  did  not  choose  to  admit  Graslin  to  their 
family. 

After  his  conference  with  the  banker,  Pere  Sauviat 
returned  joyfully  to  dinner  in  his  daughter's  room, 
and  said  to  the  two  women: 

"  Veronique  will  be  Madame  Graslin." 

"Madame  Graslin!"  cried  Mere  Sauviat,  in  utter 
stupefaction. 

"  Is  it  possible?"  said  Veronique,  to  whom  Graslin 
was  personally  a  stranger,  but  in  whose  imagination 
he  appeared  as  one  of  the  Rothschilds  appears  in  the 
imagination  of  a  Parisian  grisette. 

"  Yes,  it's  all  settled,"  said  old  Sauviat,  solemnly. 
"  Graslin  will  furnish  his  house  magnificently;  he 
will  have  the  finest  Paris  carriage  and  the  hand- 
somest Limousin  horses  for  our  daughter;  he  will 
buy  an  estate  for  five  hundred  thousand  francs 
for  her,  and  make  his  house  over  to  her;  in  fact, 
Veronique  will  be  the  first  woman  in  Limoges,  the 
richest  in  the  department,  and  she  will  do  what  she 
likes  with  Graslin!" 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  33 

Her  education,  her  religious  ideas,  her  unlimited 
affection  for  her  father  and  mother,  her  ignorance, 
prevented  Veronique  from  imagining  a  single  objec- 
tion; it  did  not  even  occur  to  her  that  they  had  dis- 
posed of  her  without  her  permission.  The  next  day 
Sauviat  went  to  Paris  and  was  absent  about  a  week. 

Pierre  Graslin  was,  as  you  will  imagine,  little 
inclined  to  talk;  he  went  straight  and  speedily  to 
the  fact.  A  thing  determined  upon  was  a  thing 
done.  In  February,  1823,  a  strange  report  burst 
upon  Limoges  like  a  thunder-clap:  the  Graslin  man- 
sion was  being  sumptuously  furnished,  vans  from 
Paris  passed  through  the  gate  in  endless  succession 
and  were  unpacked  in  the  courtyard.  The  town 
was  filled  with  gossip  concerning  the  beauty  and 
taste  of  furniture,  modern  or  antique,  according  to 
the  fashion.  The  house  of  Odiot  sent  down  a  mag- 
nificent service  of  silver  plate  by  the  mail-coach. 
And,  lastly,  three  carriages,  a  caleche,  a  coupe,  and 
a  cabriolet,  arrived  swathed  in  straw  like  jewels. 

"  Monsieur  Graslin  is  to  be  married!" 

Those  words  were  uttered  by  every  mouth  in  a 
single  evening,  in  the  salons  of  the  first  society,  in 
the  domestic  circle,  in  the  shops,  in  the  suburbs,  and 
ere  long  throughout  the  Limousin.  But  whom  was 
he  to  marry?  No  one  could  answer.  There  was  a 
mystery  at  Limoges. 

After   Sauviat' s   return,   Graslin  made  his  first 

evening  call,  at  half-past  nine.      Veronique,  who 

had  been  notified  of  his  coming,  was  awaiting  him, 

dressed  in  her  high-necked  blue  silk,  over  which  fell 

3 


34  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

a  lawn  neckerchief  with  a  broad  hem.  Her  hair, 
divided  into  two  smooth  bandeaux,  was  gathered  in 
a  knob  behind  her  head,  in  the  Grecian  style.  She 
was  sitting  in  an  upholstered  chair,  beside  her 
mother,  who  sat  at  the  corner  of  the  hearth  in  a 
capacious  easy-chair  with  a  carved  back,  covered 
with  red  satin,  a  relic  from  some  old  chateau.  A 
fire  was  burning  brightly  on  the  hearth.  On  the 
mantel,  on  each  side  of  an  old-fashioned  clock,  of 
the  value  of  which  the  Sauviats  certainly  had  no 
idea,  were  six  candles  in  two  old  copper  candlesticks 
representing  vine-branches,  which  lighted  up  that 
dingy  room  and  Veronique  in  all  the  flower  of  her 
beauty.  The  old  mother  had  put  on  her  best  dress. 
In  the  silence  of  that  retired  quarter,  at  that  silent 
hour,  from  the  semi-darkness  of  the  old  stairway, 
Graslin  appeared  to  the  innocent  and  modest  Vero- 
nique, who  was  still  under  the  spell  of  the  sweet 
thoughts  of  love  inspired  by  Bernardin  de  Saint- 
Pierre's  book. 

Graslin  was  short  and  thin,  with  a  head  of  thick 
black  hair  like  the  bristles  in  a  hair-brush,  which 
brought  out  his  face  in  bold  relief, — a  face  as  red 
as  that  of  a  drunkard  emeritus,  and  covered  with 
angry-looking  pimples,  bleeding  or  ready  to  prick. 
Although  they  indicated  neither  leprosy  nor  herpes, 
those  results  of  a  blood  heated  by  constant  toil,  by 
anxiety,  by  the  mad  rush  of  business,  by  late  hours, 
by  sobriety,  by  a  virtuous  life,  seemed  to  partake  of 
the  nature  of  both  those  diseases.  Despite  the 
advice  of  his  partners,  his  clerks,  and  his  physician, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  35 

the  banker  had  never  been  able  to  subject  himself 
to  the  medical  precautions  which  would  have  warded 
off  or  mitigated  that  disease,  which  was  very  slight 
at  first,  but  grew  worse  from  day  to  day.  He  wished 
to  be  cured,  he  took  baths  for  some  days  and  drank 
the  remedies  prescribed;  but,  carried  away  by  the 
swift  current  of  business,  he  neglected  his  physical 
welfare.  He  thought  of  suspending  his  operations 
for  a  few  days,  of  travelling,  of  going  to  the  waters 
for  treatment;  but  what  hunter  of  millions  ever 
pauses  in  the  chase?  In  that  eager  face  gleamed 
two  gray  eyes,  striped  with  greenish  lines  that  radi- 
ated from  the  pupil,  and  dotted  with  brown  spots; 
two  covetous  eyes,  two  keen  eyes  that  pierced  to 
the  depths  of  the  heart,  two  implacable  eyes,  over- 
flowing with  determination,  with  uprightness,  with 
shrewdness.  Graslin  had  a  turned-up  nose,  thick 
lips,  a  retreating  forehead,  glistening  cheek-bones, 
thick  ears,  with  broad  rims  corroded  by  the  impu- 
rity of  his  blood;  in  short,  he  was  the  satyr  of  old, 
the  faun  in  a  frock-coat  and  black  satin  waistcoat, 
with  a  white  cravat  around  his  neck.  The  stout, 
muscular  shoulders,  which  had  once  carried  heavy 
loads,  were  already  bent;  below  that  over-developed 
bust  were  slender  legs,  ill-fitted  to  short  thighs. 
The  hands,  which  were  thin  and  hairy,  had  the 
hooked  fingers  of  men  accustomed  to  counting 
money.  The  wrinkles  extended  from  the  cheek- 
bones to  the  mouth  in  even  furrows,  as  is  the  case 
with  all  men  intent  upon  material  interests.  •  The 
habit  of  forming  rapid  decisions  could  be  seen  in  the 


36  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

way  in  which  the  eyebrows  were  raised  toward 
each  lobe  of  the  forehead.  Although  unsmiling  and 
tightly  closed,  the  mouth  denoted  hidden  kindness,  a 
warm  heart  buried  under  the  cares  of  business, 
suffocated,  perhaps,  but  capable  of  renewing  its  life 
at  a  woman's  touch.  At  his  appearance  Veronique's 
heart  contracted  violently,  a  black  cloud  passed 
before  her  eyes;  she  imagined  that  she  cried  out, 
but  she  remained  silent,  staring  at  vacancy. 

"Veronique,  this  is  Monsieur  Graslin,"  said  old 
Sauviat. 

Veronique  rose,  bowed,  fell  back  upon  her  chair 
and  glanced  at  her  mother,  who  was  smiling  at  the 
millionaire,  and  who,  as  well  as  Sauviat  himself, 
seemed  happy,  oh!  so  happy,  that  the  poor  girl 
found  strength  to  conceal  her  surprise  and  her  in- 
tense feeling  of  repulsion.  In  the  conversation  which 
ensued,  Graslin's  health  was  mentioned.  The 
banker  surveyed  himself  artlessly  in  the  mirror  with 
carved  claws  and  ebony  frame. 

"  I  am  not  handsome,  mademoiselle,"  he  said. 

And  he  explained  the  eruption  on  his  face  by 
his  busy  life,  he  told  how  he  disobeyed  his  doc- 
tor's orders;  he  flattered  himself  that  his  appear- 
ance would  change  as  soon  as  a  wife  should 
assume  command  in  his  household,  and  should  take 
better  care  of  him  than  he  was  wont  to  take  of  him- 
self. 

"  Does  a  woman  marry  a  man  for  his  face,  old 
fellow?"  said  the  old  junk-dealer,  with  a  resounding 
smack  upon  his  compatriot's  leg. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  37 

Graslin's  explanation  was  addressed  to  those 
natural  feelings  with  which  every  woman's  heart 
is  more  or  less  filled.  Veronique  reflected  that  her 
own  face  had  been  marred  by  a  horrible  disease, 
and  her  Christian  modesty  caused  her  to  revise  her 
first  impression.  Hearing  a  whistle  in  the  street, 
Graslin  went  down,  followed  by  Sauviat  in  some 
alarm.  Both  speedily  returned.  The  office-boy 
brought  the  first  bouquet  of  flowers,  which  was 
somewhat  behind  time.  When  the  banker  exhibited 
that  bunch  of  exotic  blossoms,  whose  perfume  in- 
vaded the  room,  and  offered  them  to  his  future  bride, 
Veronique  experienced  emotions  diametrically  op- 
posed to  those  which  the  first  sight  of  Graslin  had 
caused;  it  was  as  if  she  were  transported  to  the 
ideal,  visionary  world  of  nature  in  the  tropics.  She 
had  never  seen  white  camellias,  she  had  never  smelt 
the  Alpine  clover,  the  garden-mint,  the  jasmine  of 
the  Azores,  the  musk-roses,  in  a  word,  all  those 
divine  odors  which  act  as  excitants  of  affection  and 
sing  hymns  of  perfume  to  the  heart. 

Graslin  left  Veronique  under  the  spell  of  that 
emotion.  After  Sauviat's  return,  the  banker,  when 
everyone  in  Limoges  was  asleep,  would  slink  along 
close  against  the  walls  to  Pere  Sauviat's  house.  He 
would  knock  softly  on  the  shutters,  the  dog  would 
not  bark,  the  old  man  would  go  down  and  open  the 
door  to  his  countryman,  and  Graslin  would  pass  an 
hour  or  two  with  Veronique  in  the  dingy  room. 
There  Graslin  always  found  his  Auvergnat  supper, 
served  by  Mere  Sauviat.  The  strange  lover  never 


189968 


38  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

appeared  without  bringing  Veronique  a  bouquet  of  the 
rarest  flowers,  gathered  in  the  greenhouse  of  Mon- 
sieur Grossetete,  the  only  person  in  Limoges  who 
was  in  the  secret  of  the  marriage.  The  office-boy 
went  after  dark  to  fetch  the  bouquet,  which  old 
Grossetete  put  together  with  his  own  hands.  In 
two  months,  Graslin  called  about  fifty  times;  every 
time  he  brought  some  handsome  present:  rings,  a 
watch,  a  gold  chain,  a  work-basket,  etc.  A  single 
word  will  explain  this  extraordinary  lavishness. 
Veronique's  marriage  portion  consisted  of  almost  the 
whole  of  her  father's  fortune,  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs.  The  old  man  retained  an 
investment  of  eight  thousand  francs  a  year  in  the 
public  funds,  representing  an  original  investment  of 
sixty  thousand  francs  in  assignats,  made  for  him  by 
his  confrere  Brezac,  to  whom  he  had  entrusted  the 
certificate  at  the  time  of  his  imprisonment,  and  who 
had  always  kept  it  for  him,  persuading  him  not  to 
sell  it.  That  sixty  thousand  francs  in  assignats  was 
half  of  Sauviat's  fortune  at  the  time  when  he  almost 
met  his  death  upon  the  scaffold.  In  that  emergency, 
Brezac  had  faithfully  taken  care  of  the  balance,  con- 
sisting of  seven  hundred  louis  d'or,  an  enormous 
sum,  with  which  the  Auvergnat  resumed  operations 
as  soon  as  he  recovered  his  liberty.  In  thirty  years 
each  of  those  louis  had  changed  to  a  thousand-franc 
note,  with  the  assistance  of  the  income  from  the  in- 
vestment in  the  Funds,  the  Champagnac  inheritance, 
the  accumulated  profits  of  his  business,  and  of  his 
share  in  the  association,  which  increased  in  value  in 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  39 

the  hands  of  the  house  of  Brezac.  Brezac  had  an 
honest  friendship  for  Sauviat,  such  as  Auvergnats 
are  wont  to  have  for  one  another. 

When  Sauviat  went  and  gazed  at  the  facade  of 
the  h6tel  Graslin,  he  would  say  to  himself: 
"  Veronique  will  live  in  that  palace!" 
He  knew  that  there  was  no  other  girl  in  the 
Limousin  with  a  dowry  of  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
in  expectation.  Wherefore  Graslin,  the  son-in-law 
of  his  choice,  could  not  fail  to  marry  Veronique. 
Every  evening  Veronique  had  a  bouquet,  which 
adorned  her  little  salon  the  next  day,  and  which  she 
concealed  from  the  neighbors.  She  admired  all  the 
dainty  jewels,  the  pearls,  the  diamonds,  the  rubies, 
the  bracelets,  in  which  all  of  Eve's  daughters  take 
delight;  she  thought  that  she  was  less  ugly  when 
arrayed  in  them.  She  saw  that  her  mother  was 
overjoyed  with  the  marriage,  and  she  had  no  basis 
of  comparison;  moreover,  she  knew  nothing  of  the 
duties,  the  object  of  marriage;  and,  lastly,  she  heard 
the  solemn  voice  of  the  vicar  of  Saint-Etienne  ex- 
tolling Graslin  as  a  man  of  honor,  with  whom  she 
would  lead  an  honorable  life.  Veronique  consented 
therefore  to  receive  Monsieur  Graslin's  attentions. 
When,  in  a  solitary,  meditative  life  like  Veronique's, 
there  is  a  single  person  who  comes  every  day,  that 
person  cannot  be  indifferent;  either  he  is  hated,  and 
aversion  justified  by  thorough  acquaintance  with 
character  is  unendurable;  or  the  habit  of  seeing  him 
benumbs  the  eyes,  so  to  speak,  so  far  as  his  bodily 


40  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

defects  are  concerned.  The  mind  seeks  compensa- 
tions. A  certain  face  keeps  our  curiosity  employed; 
the  features  become  animated,  perhaps,  and  some 
fleeting  charm  becomes  manifest  in  them.  Then 
you  end  by  discovering  the  real  substance  that  is 
concealed  beneath  the  outer  form.  In  short,  the 
first  impressions  once  overcome,  the  attachment 
becomes  the  stronger  because  the  heart  clings  ob- 
stinately to  it  as  a  creation  of  its  own.  Love  is 
born.  There  is  the  secret  of  the  passions  conceived 
by  lovely  young  women  for  persons  externally  ugly. 
Physical  form,  forgotten  by  affection,  is  no  longer 
visible  in  a  being  whose  heart  thenceforth  is  the 
only  subject  of  interest.  Moreover,  beauty,  which 
is  so  essential  to  a  woman,  assumes  such  a  strange 
character  in  man,  that  there  is  perhaps  as  much 
difference  of  opinion  between  women  concerning  the 
beauty  of  men  as  between  men  concerning  the  beauty 
of  women. 

After  much  reflection,  therefore,  after  many  dis- 
cussions with  herself,  Veronique  consented  to  the 
publication  of  the  banns.  Thereafter  that  incredi- 
ble event  was  the  sole  subject  of  conversation  in 
Limoges.  No  one  knew  the  secret:  the  enormous 
figure  of  the  dowry.  If  the  amount  of  the  dowry 
had  been  known,  Veronique  might  have  chosen  a 
husband  for  herself;  but  perhaps  she  would  have 
been  deceived!  Graslin  was  supposed  to  be  deeply 
in  love.  Upholsterers  came  down  from  Paris  to  set 
the  house  in  order.  The  banker's  lavish  expendi- 
ture was  the  all-absorbing  topic  in  Limoges:  people 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  41 

estimated  the  value  of  the  chandeliers,  they  de- 
scribed the  decorations  of  the  salon,  the  subjects 
represented  by  the  clock-cases,  the  jardinieres,  the 
reclining-chairs,  the  lovely  bric-a-brac,  the  novelties. 
In  the  garden  of  the  hotel  Graslin,  on  top  of  an  ice- 
house, was  a  dainty  bird-house,  and  everyone  was 
amazed  to  see  therein  rare  birds,  parroquets,  Chi- 
nese pheasants,  and  ducks  of  the  unfamiliar  breeds; 
people  came  from  far  and  near  to  see  them.  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  GrossetSte,  elderly  people,  much 
esteemed  in  Limoges,  made  several  visits  to  the 
Sauviats,  accompanied  by  Graslin.  Madame  Grosse- 
tete,  a  most  respectable  person,  congratulated 
Veronique  upon  her  good  fortune.  Thus  the  Church, 
the  family,  society,  everybody  and  everything, 
no  matter  how  unimportant,  were  accessory  to  this 
marriage. 

In  the  month  of  April  the  official  invitations  were 
distributed  among  all  Graslin's  acquaintances.  At 
eleven  o'clock  on  a  lovely  day,  a  caleche  and  a  coupe 
drawn  by  the  Limousin  horses  selected  by  old  Grosse- 
t£te,  harnessed  in  the  English  fashion,  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  junk-dealer's  modest  shop,  bringing 
the  bridegroom's  former  partners  and  his  two  clerks, 
to  the  intense  agitation  of  the  neighborhood.  The 
street  was  filled  with  people  who  had  assembled  to 
see  Sauviat's  daughter,  upon  whose  lovely  hair  the 
most  renowned  hair-dresser  in  Limoges  had  arranged 
the  bridal  wreath,  and  a  veil  of  the  most  expensive 
English  lace.  Veronique  was  simply  dressed  in 
white  muslin.  An  imposing  gathering  of  the  most 


42  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

distinguished  women  of  the  town  awaited  the  bridal 
party  at  the  cathedral,  where  the  bishop,  knowing 
the  sincere  piety  of  the  Sauviats,  condescended  to 
marry  Veronique.  The  bride  was  generally  con- 
sidered ugly.  She  entered  her  new  home  and  pro- 
ceeded from  surprise  to  surprise.  A  State  dinner  was 
to  precede  the  ball,  to  which  Graslin  had  invited  al- 
most all  Limoges.  The  dinner,  given  to  the  bishop, 
the  prefect,  the  president  of  the  court,  the  procureur- 
general,  the  mayor,  the  general,  and  Graslin's  former 
partners  and  their  wives,  was  a  triumph  for  the  bride, 
who,  like  all  simple  and  unaffected  persons,  displayed 
unforeseen  charms.  As  neither  the  bride  nor  the 
groom  knew  how  to  dance,  Veronique  continued  to 
do  the  honors  of  her  house,  and  won  the  esteem  and 
goodwill  of  the  greater  part  of  those  persons  whose 
acquaintance  she  made,  seeking  information  con- 
cerning each  of  them  from  Grossetete,  who  con- 
ceived a  warm  friendship  for  her.  Thus  she  avoided 
all  mistakes.  During  this  festivity,  the  two  ex- 
bankers  made  known  the  amount  of  the  fortune 
given  by  old  Sauviat  to  his  daughter,  an  immense 
fortune  in  the  Limousin.  At  nine  o'clock  the  junk- 
dealer  went  home  to  bed,  leaving  his  wife  to  preside 
at  the  bride's  retiring.  It  was  said  in  the  town  that 
Madame  Graslin  was  ugly  but  well-formed. 

Old  Sauviat  settled  up  his  business,  and  sold  his 
house  in  the  town.  He  bought  a  country-house  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  Vienne,  between  Limoges  and 
Cluzeau,  ten  minutes'  walk  from  Faubourg  Saint- 
Martial,  where  he  proposed  to  end  his  days  in  peace 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  43 

with  his  wife.  The  two  old  people  had  apartments  of 
their  own  in  the  h6tel  Graslin,  and  dined  once  or  twice 
a  week  with  their  daughter,  who  often  made  their 
house  the  goal  of  her  walks.  That  inactivity  nearly 
killed  the  old  junk-dealer.  Luckily,  Graslin  found  a 
means  of  employing  his  father-in-law.  In  1823  the 
banker  was  obliged  to  take  over  a  porcelain  manu- 
factory, having  advanced  a  large  amount  to  the 
owners,  who  were  unable  to  pay  him  except  by  sell- 
ing him  their  establishment.  With  the  assistance  of 
his  business  connections,  and  by  putting  some  money 
into  the  concern,  Graslin  made  it  one  of  the  leading 
factories  in  Limoges,  and  sold  it  three  years  later  at 
a  handsome  profit.  He  entrusted  the  superintend- 
ence of  that  large  establishment,  which  was  located 
in  Faubourg  Saint-Martial,  to  his  father-in-law,  who, 
notwithstanding  his  seventy-two  years,  was  largely 
responsible  for  the  fortunate  result  of  the  affair,  and 
who  grew  younger  in  the  process.  Thus  Graslin 
was  able  to  attend  to  his  business  in  the  town,  with- 
out concerning  himself  about  an  industry  which,  but 
for  the  passionate  activity  of  old  Sauviat,  might  have 
obliged  him  to  take  one  of  his  clerks  into  partner- 
ship and  thus  lose  a  portion  of  the  profit  which  he 
made,  in  addition  to  saving  the  capital  involved. 

Sauviat  died  in  1827,  as  the  result  of  an  accident. 
While  superintending  the  taking  of  an  inventory  at 
the  factory,  he  fell  into  a  charasse,  a  sort  of  box 
with  no  cover  but  a  grating,  in  which  porcelain  is 
packed.  He  wounded  his  leg  slightly  and  did  not  attend 
to  it;  gangrene  set  in,  he  refused  to  allow  the  leg  to 


44  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

be  amputated,  and  died.  The  widow  gave  up  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  the  amount 
of  Sauviat's  property,  contenting  herself  with  an 
annuity  of  two  hundred  francs  a  month,  which  was 
amply  sufficient  for  her  needs,  and  which  her  son- 
in-law  agreed  to  pay  her.  She  retained  her  little 
country-house,  where  she  lived  alone,  without  a 
servant;  her  daughter  could  not  induce  her  to  swerve 
from  that  decision,  in  which  she  persisted  with  the 
obstinacy  peculiar  to  old  people.  Mere  Sauviat  went 
to  see  her  daughter  almost  every  day,  just  as  her 
daughter  continued  to  make  the  country-house  the 
goal  of  her  walks.  It  commanded  a  lovely  view  of 
the  Vienne,  and  from  it  could  be  seen  the  little 
island  of  which  Veronique  was  so  fond,  and  which 
she  had  once  called  her  He  de  France. 

In  order  not  to  interrupt  the  history  of  the  Graslin 
household,  it  is  necessary  to  bring  the  story  of  the 
Sauviats  to  a  close,  anticipating  the  happening  of 
these  events,  a  knowledge  of  which  will  be  useful, 
moreover,  to  a  comprehension  of  the  secret  life  led  by 
Madame  Graslin.  Her  old  mother,  having  remarked 
how  Graslin's  avarice  was  likely  to  embarrass  her 
daughter,  refused  for  a  long  while  to  relinquish  the 
balance  of  her  fortune;  but  Veronique,  who  had  no 
reason  to  anticipate  any  one  of  those  emergencies  in 
which  women  desire  to  have  the  disposal  of  their 
own  property,  insisted,  for  reasons  instinct  with 
nobility  of  sentiment, — she  desired  to  thank  Graslin 
for  having  restored  the  liberty  she  had  had  as  a  girl. 

The  unaccustomed  splendor  of  Graslin's  marriage 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  45 

and  the  attendant  festivities  had  disturbed  all  his 
habits  and  fretted  his  nature.  That  great  financier 
had  a  very  small  mind.  Veronique  had  had  no  op- 
portunity to  judge  the  man  with  whom  she  was  to 
pass  her  life.  During  his  fifty-five  visits,  Graslin 
had  never  allowed  her  to  see  anything  but  the  man 
of  business,  the  tireless  worker,  who  divined  oppor- 
tunities, who  conceived  and  carried  out  great  enter- 
prises, and  analyzed  public  affairs,  reducing  them  all 
to  the  scale  of  the  Bank.  Fascinated  by  the  father- 
in-law's  million,  the  parvenu  made  a  display  of  gen- 
erosity as  a  matter  of  business;  but,  if  he  did  things 
on  a  grand  scale,  he  was  led  on  by  the  springtime  of 
marriage,  and  by  what  he  called  his  folly — by  that 
house  which  is  called  to  this  day  the  hotel  Graslin. 
Having  provided  himself  with  horses,  a  caleche,  a 
coupe,  he  naturally  made  use  of  them  to  return  his 
wedding  calls,  to  attend  the  dinner-parties  and  balls, 
known  as  retours  de  noces,  at  which  the  chief  govern- 
ment officials  and  the  wealthy  business  men  enter- 
tained the  newly-married  couple.  In  obedience  to  the 
impulse  which  carried  him  outside  his  natural  sphere, 
Graslin  appointed  a  reception  day  and  imported  a 
cook  from  Paris.  For  about  a  year  he  lived  as  a  man 
ought  to  live  who  possessed  sixteen  hundred  thousand 
francs,  and  who  had  three  millions  at  his  disposal,  in- 
cluding the  funds  that  were  placed  in  his  hands.  He 
was  at  this  time  the  most  pronounced  personage  in 
Limoges.  During  that  year,  he  generously  placed 
twenty-five  louis  in  Madame  Graslin's  purse  each 
month. 


46  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

The  best  society  of  the  town  was  much  interested 
in  Veronique  in  the  first  months  succeeding  her  mar- 
riage, which  was  a  sort  of  windfall  to  the  public 
curiosity,  generally  without  nourishment  in  the 
provinces.  Veronique  was  the  more  carefully  ob- 
served in  that  she  appeared  in  society  as  a  sort  of 
phenomenon;  but  she  maintained  the  simple  and 
modest  bearing  of  one  who  keeps  a  close  watch  upon 
manners  and  customs  and  unfamiliar  things,  wishing 
to  conform  to  them.  Having  been  previously  pro- 
claimed as  ugly  but  well-formed,  she  was  thence- 
forth considered  a  good  soul,  but  stupid.  She  was 
learning  so  many  things,  she  had  so  much  to  listen  to 
and  to  see,  that  her  manner,  her  conversation,  justi- 
fied that  judgment  in  a  measure.  She  had,  more- 
over, a  sort  of  torpor  which  resembled  lack  of  intel- 
lect. Marriage,  that  difficult  trade,  as  she  called  it, 
in  connection  with  which  the  Church,  the  Code,  and 
her  mother  counselled  the  greatest  resignation,  the 
most  absolute  obedience,  under  pain  of  violating  all 
human  laws  and  of  causing  irreparable  misfortune, 
plunged  her  into  a  dazed  condition  which  sometimes 
bordered  upon  downright  vertigo.  Silent  and  pen- 
sive, she  listened  to  herself  as  much  as  she  listened 
to  others.  Feeling  what  Fontenelle  calls  the  most 
extreme  difficulty  in  being,  a  difficulty  which  con- 
stantly increased,  she  was  terrified  at  herself. 
Nature  rebelled  under  the  orders  of  the  mind,  and 
the  body  lost  touch  with  the  will.  The  poor  crea- 
ture, caught  in  the  snare,  wept  upon  the  bosom  of 
the  mother  of  the  poor  and  afflicted,  she  had  recourse 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  47 

to  the  Church,  her  piety  redoubled  in  fervor,  she 
confided  the  wiles  of  the  demon  to  her  virtuous  con- 
fessor, she  prayed.  Never  in  her  life  did  she  per- 
form her  religious  duties  with  more  intense  ardor 
than  at  that  time.  Despair,  caused  by  her  inability 
to  love  her  husband,  drove  her  to  the  altar's  foot, 
where  divine,  consoling  voices  bade  her  have  patience. 
She  was  patient  and  gentle,  she  continued  to  live, 
awaiting  the  joys  of  maternity. 

"  Did  you  see  Madame  Graslin  this  morning?"  the 
women  would  say  among  themselves;  "  marriage  is 
not  a  success  with  her,  she  was  green." 

"  True,  but  would  you  have  given  your  daughter 
to  a  man  like  Monsieur  Graslin?  A  woman  doesn't 
marry  such  a  monster  with  impunity!" 

After  Graslin  was  married,  all  the  mothers  who 
had  been  hunting  him  for  ten  years  overwhelmed 
him  with  epigrams.  Veronique  lost  flesh  and  be- 
came really  ugly.  Her  eyes  lost  their  sparkle,  her 
features  grew  coarse,  she  seemed  shamefaced  and 
embarrassed.  Her  expression  was  marked  by  that 
sad  indifference  so  often  made  a  subject  of  reproach 
to  devout  women.  Her  face  assumed  a  grayish  tinge. 
She  dragged  herself  languidly  along  during  that  first 
year  after  her  marriage,  ordinarily  such  a  brilliant 
period  for  young  wives.  She  soon  sought  distrac- 
tion in  reading,  availing  herself  of  the  married 
woman's  privilege  of  reading  everything.  She  read 
Walter  Scott's  novels,  Lord  Byron's  poems,  the 
works  of  Schiller  and  Goethe,  the  masterpieces  of 
ancient  and  modern  literature.  She  learned  to  ride, 


48  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

to  dance,  and  to  draw.  She  painted  in  water-color 
and  sepia,  seeking  with  ardor  all  the  resources  with 
which  women  contend  against  the  ennui  of  solitude. 
In  short,  she  gave  herself  that  second  education 
which  almost  all  women  owe  to  a  man,  but  which 
she  owed  to  herself  alone.  The  superiority  of  a 
free,  open  nature,  reared  as  in  a  desert,  but  fortified 
by  religion,  had  imparted  a  sort  of  savage  grandeur, 
and  awakened  demands  which  provincial  society 
could  not  satisfy.  All  books  described  love,  she 
looked  about  for  something  to  which  to  apply  her 
reading,  and  could  discover  no  passion  anywhere. 
Love  remained  in  her  heart  in  the  condition  of  a 
seed  awaiting  a  sunbeam.  Her  profound  melan- 
choly, engendered  by  constant  meditations  concern- 
ing herself,  led  her  back  through  obscure  paths  to 
the  brilliant  dreams  of  the  last  days  of  her  unmarried 
life.  More  than  once  she  recalled  the  romantic  poems 
she  once  composed,  becoming  both  their  scene  and 
their  subject.  Again  she  saw  that  flower-girt,  per- 
fumed island,  bathed  in  light,  where  everything 
caressed  the  heart.  Often  her  lustreless  eyes  gazed 
about  the  salons  with  eager  curiosity:  all  the  men 
resembled  Graslin,  she  studied  them  and  seemed  to 
question  their  wives;  but,  as  she  discovered  none  of 
her  private  griefs  depicted  upon  their  faces,  she  be- 
came depressed  and  sad  once  more,  anxious  concern- 
ing herself.  The  authors  she  had  read  in  the  morn- 
ing responded  to  her  most  exalted  sentiments,  their 
talent  gave  her  pleasure;  and  in  the  evening  she 
listened  to  trite  remarks  which  were  not  even 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  49 

disguised  beneath  an  appearance  of  wit,  conversation 
that  was  either  foolish  and  vapid,  or  concerned  en- 
tirely with  local,  personal  interests  of  no  importance 
to  her.  She  was  amazed  at  the  warmth  displayed 
in  discussions  which  involved  no  question  of  senti- 
ment, to  her  the  soul  of  life.  Often  she  would  sit 
with  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  as  if  in  a  stupor,  think- 
ing doubtless  of  the  hours  of  her  ignorant  youth, 
passed  in  that  chamber  filled  with  harmony,  now 
destroyed  like  herself.  The  thought  of  falling  into 
the  gulf  of  petty  interests  in  which  the  women  dwelt 
among  whom  she  was  compelled  to  live,  was  horribly 
repugnant  to  her.  This  disdain,  which  was  written 
on  her  brow  and  lips,  and  ill-disguised,  was  taken 
for  the  insolence  of  an  upstart.  Madame  Graslin 
noticed  a  cold  expression  upon  every  face,  and  felt 
in  everybody's  speech  a  bitterness  of  which  she  did 
not  know  the  cause,  for  she  had  not  as  yet  succeeded 
in  becoming  sufficiently  intimate  with  one  of  her  own 
sex  to  be  enlightened  or  advised  by  her.  Injustice, 
which  causes  petty  minds  to  rise  in  revolt,  forces 
lofty  minds  to  retreat  within  themselves  and  imparts 
to  them  a  sort  of  humility:  Veronique  blamed  herself, 
sought  to  divine  wherein  she  had  done  wrong;  she 
tried  to  be  affable,  she  was  called  false;  she  became 
doubly  gentle  in  her  manner,  she  was  looked  upon  as 
a  hypocrite,  and  her  piety  furnished  fresh  ammunition 
for  calumny;  she  spent  money,  she  gave  balls  and 
dinner-parties,  and  she  was  accused  of  ostentation. 

Unfortunate  in  all  her  attempts,  misjudged,  dis- 
gusted by  the  mean,  sordid  pride  that  distinguishes 
4 


JO  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

provincial  society,  where  everyone  is  always  armed 
with  prejudices  and  anxieties,  Madame  Graslin  re- 
turned to  a  life  of  absolute  solitude.  She  rushed 
joyfully  back  to  the  arms  of  the  Church.  Her 
noble  mind,  surrounded  by  such  weak  flesh,  caused 
her  to  see  in  the  numerous  commandments  of  the 
catechism  so  many  stones  planted  along  the  brink 
of  the  precipices  of  life,  so  many  props  brought 
by  charitable  hands  to  sustain  human  weakness 
during  the  journey;  she  performed,  therefore,  with 
the  utmost  strictness,  all  the  duties  enjoined  by  the 
Church,  even  the  most  trivial.  Thereupon  the 
liberal  party  wrote  Madame  Graslin  down  among 
the  pious  women  of  the  town,  she  was  classed 
among  the  ultras.  Thus,  to  the  various  grievances 
which  Veronique  had  innocently  heaped  up,  party 
spirit  added  its  periodical  irritations;  but,  as  she  lost 
nothing  by  that  ostracism,  she  abandoned  society 
and  devoted  herself  to  reading,  which  offered  un- 
limited resources.  She  reflected  upon  the  books  she 
read,  she  compared  the  different  styles,  she  ex- 
panded immeasurably  the  range  of  her  intellect  and 
the  extent  of  her  knowledge,  and  thus  she  opened 
the  door  of  her  mind  to  curiosity.  During  that 
period  of  persistent  study,  due  to  the  influence  of 
religion  upon  her  mind,  she  cultivated  the  friend- 
ship of  Monsieur  Grossetete,  one  of  those  old  men 
whose  superior  faculties  become  somewhat  rusted  by 
provincial  life,  but  who,  at  the  contact  of  a  keen  in- 
tellect, strike  fire  now  and  again.  The  goodman  be- 
came deeply  interested  in  Veronique,  who  rewarded 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  51 

him  for  the  flattering  and  kindly  warmheartedness 
peculiar  to  old  men  by  exhibiting  to  him,  first  of  all, 
the  treasures  of  her  heart  and  the  luxuriance  of  her 
intellect,  cultivated  so  secretly,  and  at  that  time 
laden  with  flowers.  A  fragment  of  a  letter  written 
to  Monsieur  Grossetgte  during  that  period  will  de- 
scribe the  frame  of  mind  of  that  woman,  who  was  to 
give  proof  thereafter  of  such  a  steadfast  and  lofty 
character. 


"  The  flowers  you  sent  me  for  the  ball  were  charming,  but 
they  suggested  cruel  thoughts  to  me.  Those  pretty  blossoms, 
plucked  by  you  and  destined  to  die  upon  my  bosom  and  in  my 
hair,  as  part  of  the  decorations  of  a  fete,  made  me  think  of 
those  that  are  born  and  die  in  your  woods,  unseen,  their  fra- 
grance breathed  by  no  one.  I  asked  myself  why  I  danced,  why 
I  arrayed  myself  in  fine  clothes,  just  as  I  ask  God  why  I  am  in 
this  world.  You  see,  my  friend,  everything  is  a  snare  for  the 
unfortunate ;  the  most  trivial  things  bring  an  invalid's  mind 
back  to  his  disease ;  but  the  greatest  curse  of  certain  diseases 
is  the  persistence  which  makes  them  become  fixed  ideas. 
Would  not  a  constant  pain  be  a  divine  thought?  You  love 
flowers  for  themselves,  whereas  I  love  them  as  I  love  to  hear 
beautiful  music.  In  like  manner,  as  I  told  you,  I  miss  the 
secret  of  a  multitude  of  things.  You,  my  old  friend,  have  a 
passion,  you  are  a  horticulturist.  On  your  return  to  town, 
communicate  your  taste  to  me,  so  that  I  may  fly,  light  of 
foot,  to  my  greenhouse,  as  you  go  to  yours  to  watch  the 
development  of  the  plants,  to  blossom  and  flower  with  them, 
to  admire  what  you  have  created ;  to  discover  new,  unhoped- 
for combinations  of  color  appear  and  multiply  before  your  eyes 
by  virtue  of  your  labors.  I  feel  a  heart-breaking  ennui.  My 
greenhouse  contains  only  suffering  souls.  The  miseries  which 
I  strive  to  lighten  make  my  heart  sad,  and,  when  I  make 
them  my  own,  when,  after  I  have  found  some  young  wife 


52  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

without  clothes  for  her  new-born  child,  some  old  man  without 
bread,  I  have  provided  for  their  needs,  the  emotion  caused  by 
the  distress  I  have  relieved  is  not  enough  for  my  heart.  Ah ! 
my  friend,  I  feel  within  me  a  superb  force, — an  evil  force, 
perhaps, — which  nothing  can  crush,  which  the  sternest  injunc- 
tions of  religion  do  not  quell.  When  I  go  to  see  my  mother, 
and  find  myself  alone  in  the  fields,  I  am  seized  with  a  longing 
to  cry  out,  and  I  do  cry  out.  It  seems  as  if  my  body  were  a 
prison  in  which  some  evil  genie  detains  a  groaning  creature 
who  awaits  the  mysterious  words  which  are  destined  to 
shatter  an  importunate  shape.  But  the  comparison  is  not  a 
just  one.  In  my  case,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  body  that 
suffers  from  ennui,  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  Religion 
engrosses  my  soul;  reading  and  its  treasures  furnish  never- 
failing  food  for  my  mind.  Why  do  I  desire  a  sorrow  which 
will  interrupt  the  enervating  tranquillity  of  my  life  ?  If  some 
sentiment,  some  mania  to  cultivate,  does  not  come  to  my  aid,  I 
feel  that  I  shall  plunge  into  an  abyss  where  all  ideas  grow 
stale,  where  the  character  shrinks,  where  the  springs  of  life 
relax,  where  the  faculties  lose  their  substance,  where  all  the 
mental  forces  become  dissipated,  and  where  I  shall  cease  to  be 
the  being  that  nature  intended  me  to  be.  That  is  the  mean- 
ing of  my  outcries. — I  trust  that  they  will  not  prevent  your 
sending  me  flowers.  Your  sweet  and  generous  friendship 
has  reconciled  me  with  myself  these  last  months.  Yes,  I 
am  happy  to  know  that  you  cast  a  friendly  glance  upon 
my  heart,  at  once  a  desert  and  a  garden  of  flowers;  that 
you  find  a  kindly  word  to  welcome  the  return  of  the  half- 
crushed  fugitive  who  has  been  riding  the  restive  horse  of 
her  dreams ! " 

At  the  close  of  the  third  year  of  his  married  life, 
Graslin,  seeing  that  his  wife  no  longer  used  her 
horses,  and  finding  a  favorable  opportunity,  sold 
them;  he  also  sold  the  carriages,  dismissed  the  coach- 
man, allowed  the  bishop  to  take  his  man  cook,  and 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  53 

filled  his  place  with  a  woman.  He  ceased  to  give 
his  wife  money,  telling  her  that  he  would  pay  all 
the  bills.  He  was  the  most  fortunate  husband  on 
earth,  meeting  with  no  resistance  to  his  will  on  the 
part  of  the  wife  who  had  brought  him  a  dowry  of  a 
million.  Madame  Graslin,  having  been  brought  up 
without  any  knowledge  of  money,  without  being 
obliged  to  look  upon  it  as  an  indispensable  element 
in  life,  deserved  no  credit  for  her  self-abnegation. 
Graslin  found  in  a  corner  of  the  desk  the  sums  he 
had  given  his  wife,  less  what  she  had  expended  in 
alms  and  upon  her  dress,  which  had  cost  her  but 
little  on  account  of  the  profusion  with  which  her 
wedding  trousseau  had  been  supplied.  Graslin  held 
up  Veronique  to  all  Limoges  as  the  model  of  wives. 
He  deplored  the  magnificence  of  his  furniture  and 
had  it  all  packed  away.  His  wife's  bedroom,  boudoir, 
and  dressing-room  were  excepted  from  his  eco- 
nomical measures,  which  served  no  purpose,  for 
furniture  wears  out  under  coverings  as  quickly  as 
without  coverings.  He  lived  on  the  ground-floor  of 
his  house,  where  his  offices  were  established,  and  he 
resumed  his  former  mode  of  life,  hunting  for  busi- 
ness with  the  same  energy  as  in  the  past.  The 
Auvergnat  considered  himself  an  excellent  husband 
because  he  partook  of  the  breakfast  and  dinner  pre- 
pared under  his  wife's  supervision;  but  he  was  so 
unpunctual  that  he  did  not  begin  a  meal  with  her 
ten  times  in  a  month;  with  great  delicacy  he  in- 
sisted that  she  should  not  wait  for  him.  Neverthe- 
less, Veronique  remained  until  he  came,  in  order  to 


54  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

wait  upon  him  herself,  wishing  to  fulfil  her  duties  as 
wife  in  some  visible  respect. 

The  banker,  who  was  quite  indifferent  to  the  de- 
tails of  married  life  and  in  whose  eyes  his  wife 
simply  stood  for  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs,  never  noticed  Veronique's  feeling  of  repul- 
sion. By  insensible  degrees  he  abandoned  Madame 
Graslin  for  his  business.  When  he  expressed  a 
wish  to  place  a  bed  in  a  room  adjoining  his  office, 
she  hastened  to  gratify  him.  Thus,  three  years 
after  her  marriage,  those  two  ill-assorted  beings 
found  themselves  once  more  in  their  original 
spheres,  and  were  equally  happy  to  return  to  them. 
The  moneyed  man,  with  his  eighteen  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  returned  with  the  more  ardor  to  his 
miserly  ways,  because  he  had  laid  them  aside  for  a 
moment;  his  two  clerks  and  his  office-boy  were 
more  comfortably  lodged  and  a  little  better  fed:  that 
was  the  difference  between  the  present  and  the 
past.  His  wife  had  a  cook  and  a  maid,  two  indis- 
pensable servants;  but  nothing  beyond  what  was 
absolutely  necessary  went  out  of  his  strong-box 
for  household  expenses.  Veronique,  overjoyed  at 
the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  saw  in  the  banker's 
happiness  the  compensation  for  the  separation  for 
which  she  would  never  have  asked;  it  was  not  pos- 
sible for  her  to  be  so  disagreeable  to  Graslin  as  Gras- 
lin was  repulsive  to  her.  This  secret  divorce  made 
her  sad  and  joyous  at  once;  she  looked  forward  to 
maternity  to  give  an  interest  to  her  life,  but,  not- 
withstanding their  mutual  resignation,  the  husband 


THE  VILLAGE    CURE  55 

and  wife  reached  the  year  1828  without  having  had 
a  child. 

Thus,  in  her  magnificent  house,  envied  by  a 
whole  town,  Madame  Graslin  lived  in  the  same 
solitude  as  in  her  father's  hovel,  without  the  hope, 
without  the  childlike  joys  of  ignorance.  She  lived 
there  among  the  ruins  of  her  castles  in  Spain, 
enlightened  by  sad  experience,  upheld  by  her  re- 
ligious faith,  devoted  to  the  poor  of  the  town, 
whom  she  overwhelmed  with  benefactions.  She 
made  layettes  for  the  children,  she  gave  mattresses 
and  sheets  to  those  who  lay  on  straw;  she  went 
everywhere,  attended  by  her  maid,  a  young  Au- 
vergnat  whom  her  mother  procured  for  her,  and 
who  was  devoted  to  her,  body  and  soul;  she  made 
of  her  a  virtuous  spy,  whose  mission  it  was  to 
discover  places  where  there  was  suffering  to  be 
relieved,  misery  to  be  lightened.  This  active  be- 
nevolence, combined  with  the  most  scrupulous  fulfil- 
ment of  her  religious  duties,  was  shrouded  in  the 
deepest  mystery,  although  it  was  carried  on  under 
the  direction  of  the  cures  of  the  town,  with  whom 
Veronique  planned  all  her  good  works,  in  order  that 
money  which  would  be  useful  in  relieving  unde- 
served misfortunes  might  not  be  wasted  in  the 
hands  of  vice.  During  that  period  she  won  a 
friendship  that  was  quite  as  warm  and  quite  as 
precious  to  her  as  old  Grossete'te's:  she  became 
the  beloved  ewe-lamb  of  a  priest  of  superior  intel- 
lect, persecuted  for  his  unappreciated  talent, — one 
of  the  grand  vicars  of  the  diocese,  named  Abbe 


56  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Dutheil.  That  priest  belonged  to  that  infinitesimal 
fraction  of  the  French  clergy  who  lean  toward  some 
concessions,  who  would  be  glad  to  have  the  Church 
become  associated  with  the  interests  of  the  common 
people,  so  that  it  might  regain,  by  the  application  of 
the  true  doctrine  of  the  Gospel,  its  former  influence 
over  the  masses,  whom  it  could  then  bring  to  the 
support  of  the  monarchy.  Whether  because  Abbe 
Dutheil  had  become  convinced  of  the  impossibility 
of  enlightening  the  court  of  Rome  and  the  upper 
clergy,  or  because  he  had  sacrificed  his  own  opinions 
to  those  of  his  superiors,  he  kept  himself  within  the 
limits  of  the  strictest  orthodoxy,  knowing  that  the 
bare  enunciation  of  his  principles  would  effectually 
bar  his  path  to  a  bishopric.  That  eminent  priest 
presented  the  combination  of  very  great  Christian 
modesty  with  a  strong  character.  Without  arro- 
gance or  ambition,  he  remained  at  his  post,  perform- 
ing his  duties  amid  dangers.  The  liberals  of  the 
town  knew  nothing  of  the  motives  of  his  conduct, 
they  based  their  judgment  upon  his  opinions,  and 
reckoned  him  as  a  patriot,  a  word  which  signifies 
revolutionist  in  the  language  of  Catholics.  Beloved 
by  his  inferiors,  who  dared  not  proclaim  his  merit, 
but  feared  by  his  equals,  who  kept  a  close  watch 
upon  him,  he  was  an  embarrassment  to  the  bishop. 
His  virtues  and  his  great  knowledge,  envied  per- 
haps, warded  off  persecution;  it  was  impossible  to 
complain  of  him,  although  he  criticised  the  bungling 
policy  by  which  the  throne  and  the  clergy  mutu- 
ally compromised  each  other;  he  declared  its  results 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  57 

in  advance  and  without  success,  like  poor  Cas- 
sandra, who  was  cursed  with  equal  fervor  before 
and  after  the  downfall  of  her  country.  In  the 
absence  of  a  revolution,  Abbe  Dutheil  was  destined 
to  hold  his  place  like  one  of  those  stones,  out  of 
sight  in  the  foundations,  on  which  the  whole  struc- 
ture rests.  His  usefulness  was  recognized,  but  he 
was  left  where  he  was,  like  most  of  the  eminent 
minds  whose  accession  to  power  is  the  bugbear  of 
mediocrities.  If  he  had  taken  up  the  pen,  like 
Abbe  de  Lamennais,  he  would  doubtless  have  called 
down  the  anathemas  of  Rome  as  he  did. 

Abbe  Dutheil  was  an  imposing  personage.  His 
external  appearance  indicated  one  of  those  profound 
natures  always  placid  and  tranquil  on  the  surface. 
His  great  height,  his  spareness,  did  not  impair  the 
general  effect  of  his  figure,  which  reminded  one  of 
those  which  the  genius  of  the  Spanish  artists  has 
most  affected v  to  represent  the  great  monastic 
thinkers,  and  those  which  Thorwaldsen  has  recently 
conceived  for  his  Apostles.  Those  long,  almost  rigid 
folds  of  the  face,  harmonizing  with  those  of  the  cloth- 
ing, have  that  charm  which  the  Middle  Ages  empha- 
sized in  the  mystic  statues  set  up  in  the  doorways  of 
its  churches.  Gravity  of  thought,  of  language,  and 
of  accent  were  in  perfect  accord  in  Abbe  Dutheil  and 
became  him  well.  Looking  at  his  black  eyes,  sunken 
by  mortification  of  the  flesh  and  surrounded  by  dark 
rings,  his  forehead  as  yellow  as  an  old  stone,  his 
almost  fleshless  face  and  hands,  no  one  would  have 
expected  a  different  voice  or  different  sentiments 


58  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

from  those  which  issued  from  his  mouth.  That 
purely  physical  grandeur,  in  accord  with  his  mental 
grandeur,  gave  the  priest  a  haughty,  disdainful  air, 
which  was  instantly  contradicted  by  his  modesty 
and  by  his  words,  but  which  did  not  prepossess 
people  in  his  favor.  In  a  more  exalted  station,  such 
advantages  would  have  caused  him  to  obtain  that 
ascendency  over  the  masses  which  is  so  necessary, 
and  which  they  allow  men  thus  endowed  to  assume; 
but  superiors  never  forgive  their  inferiors  the  posses- 
sion of  the  external  appearance  of  grandeur,  nor  for 
displaying  that  majesty  of  demeanor,  so  highly  prized 
by  the  ancients,  which  is  so  often  lacking  in  the 
mouthpiece  of  modern  governments. 

By  virtue  of  one  of  those  strange  caprices,  which 
will  seem  natural  only  to  the  most  accomplished 
courtiers,  the  other  vicar -general,  Abbe  de  Grancour, 
a  short,  stout  man  with  a  florid  face  and  blue  eyes, 
whose  opinions  were  contrary  to  Abbe  Dutheil's, 
lived  on  the  most  excellent  terms  with  him,  but 
without  making  any  public  manifestation  likely  to 
deprive  him  of  the  good  graces  of  the  bishop,  to 
whom  he  would  have  sacrificed  everything.  Abbe 
de  Grancour  believed  in  his  colleague's  merit,  he 
recognized  his  talents,  he  subscribed  to  his  doctrine 
secretly  and  condemned  it  in  public;  for  he  was  one 
of  those  people  whom  mental  superiority  attracts 
and  intimidates,  who  hate  it  and  nevertheless  culti- 
vate it.  "  He  would  embrace  me  as  he  pronounced 
my  condemnation,"  Abbe  Dutheil  said  of  him.  Abbe 
de  Grancour  had  neither  friends  nor  enemies,  he  was 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  59 

likely  to  die  a  vicar-general.  He  said  that  he  was 
attracted  to  Veronique  by  the  desire  to  advise  so 
pious  and  benevolent  a  person,  and  the  bishop 
approved;  but,  in  his  heart,  he  was  delighted  to  be 
able  to  pass  an  evening  now  and  then  with  Abbe 
Dutheil. 

These  two  priests  therefore  called  quite  regularly 
upon  Veronique,  in  order  to  make  a  sort  of  report  to 
her  concerning  the  objects  of  her  bounty,  and  to  dis- 
cuss methods  of  combining  moral  instruction  with 
material  assistance.  But  from  year  to  year  Monsieur 
Graslin  tightened  the  strings  of  his  purse,  when  he 
learned,  notwithstanding  the  ingenious  deceit  of  his 
wife  and  Aline,  that  the  money  he  was  asked  to  fur- 
nish was  not  expended  upon  the  house  or  the  toilet. 
He  was  wroth  when  he  reckoned  how  much  his 
wife's  alms-giving  cost  his  strong-box.  He  under- 
took to  keep  an  account  with  the  cook,  he  went 
into  all  the  minutias  of  the  household  expenses, 
and  showed  what  an  excellent  manager  he  was  by 
making  a  practical  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  his 
house  could  be  kept  up  handsomely  on  three  thou- 
sand francs.  Then  he  made  an  arrangement  with 
his  wife,  as  between  master  and  clerk,  for  her  ex- 
penses, allowing  her  a  hundred  francs  a  month,  and 
boasting  of  that  allowance  as  a  display  of  royal  mu- 
nificence. The  garden  connected  with  his  house, 
being  turned  over  to  him,  was  tended  on  Sundays 
by  his  office-boy,  who  loved  flowers.  Having  dis- 
missed the  gardener,  Graslin  transformed  the  con- 
servatory into  a  store-room,  in  which  he  kept  the 


60  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

merchandise  deposited  with  him  as  security  for  loans. 
He  allowed  the  birds  in  the  great  aviary  on  the  ice- 
house to  die  of  hunger,  in  order  to  cut  off  the  expense 
of  feeding  them.  Finally,  he  took  advantage  of  a 
winter  when  there  was  no  frost  to  refuse  to  pay  the 
charges  for  transportation  of  ice. 

In  1828,  there  was  not  a  single  article  of  luxury 
that  was  not  condemned.  Parsimony  reigned  unop- 
posed in  the  h6tel  Graslin.  The  master's  face, 
which  had  improved  during  the  three  years  he  had 
passed  in  intimate  relations  with  his  wife,  who 
had  made  him  follow  the  doctor's  prescriptions  with 
scrupulous  exactness,  became  redder,  more  inflamed, 
more  blotched  than  before.  The  business  reached  such 
proportions  that  the  office-boy  was  promoted,  as  his 
master  had  once  been,  to  the  post  of  cashier,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  find  an  Auvergnat  for  the  heavy 
work  of  the  Graslin  establishment.  Thus,  four  years 
after  her  marriage,  that  woman,  rich  as  she  was,  had 
not  a  three-franc  piece  at  her  disposal.  The  avarice 
of  her  parents  was  replaced  by  the  avarice  of  her 
husband.  Madame  Graslin  did  not  realize  the  neces- 
sity of  money  until  her  benevolence  was  balked. 

At  the  beginning  ot  the  year  1828,  Veronique  had 
recovered  the  blooming  health  which  was  the  charm 
of  the  innocent  girl  sitting  at  her  window  in  the  old 
house  on  Rue  de  la  Cite;  but  she  had  meanwhile 
acquired  profound  literary  knowledge, — she  knew 
how  to  think  and  to  talk.  Exquisite  accuracy  of 
perception  gave  character  to  her  features.  Accus- 
tomed as  she  was  to  petty  social  details,  she  wore 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  6 1 

fashionable  clothes  with  infinite  grace.  When  she 
chanced  to  appear  in  a  salon,  about  that  period,  she 
found  herself,  not  without  surprise,  in  an  atmosphere 
of  respectful  esteem.  That  feeling  and  that  recep- 
tion were  due  to  the  two  vicars-general,  and  to  old 
Grossete"te.  The  bishop  and  some  influential  persons, 
being  made  acquainted  with  the  story  of  that  lovely 
hidden  life  and  of  her  untiring  benevolence,  had 
spoken  of  that  flower  of  true  piety,  of  that  violet 
perfumed  with  virtue,  and  there  had  taken  place 
thereupon,  in  Madame  Graslin's  favor,  and  unknown 
to  her,  one  of  those  reactions  which  are  the  more 
solid  and  enduring  because  they  are  of  slow  growth. 
This  revulsion  in  feeling  brought  in  its  train  the 
influence  of  Veronique's  salon,  which,  from  that  time 
on,  was  frequented  by  the  notabilities  of  the  town; 
and  this  is  how  it  came  about.  The  young  Vicomte 
de  Granville  was  sent  to  the  office  of  the  king's 
attorney  at  Limoges,  in  the  capacity  of  deputy 
attorney,  toward  the  end  of  that  year,  preceded  by 
the  reputation  which  is  always  manufactured  in 
advance  in  the  provinces  for  all  Parisians.  A  few 
days  after  his  arrival,  at  an  evening  party  at  the 
prefecture,  he  answered  an  absurd  question  that  was 
asked  him,  with  the  statement  that  Madame  Graslin 
was  the  most  agreeable,  the  most  intellectual,  and 
the  most  distinguished  woman  in  the  town. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  the  most  beautiful,  too?"  queried 
the  receiver-general's  wife. 

"  I  do  not  dare  to  say  yes  in  your  presence," 
he  replied.  "  Therefore  I  am  in  doubt.  Madame 


62  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Graslin's  beauty  is  of  a  sort  that  should  cause  you 
no  jealousy,  it  is  never  seen  by  daylight.  Madame 
Graslin  is  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  those  whom  she 
loves,  and  you  are  beautiful  in  everybody's  eyes. 
In  Madame  Graslin,  when  the  soul  is  once  set  in 
motion  by  genuine  enthusiasm,  it  imparts  to  her 
face  an  expression  which  changes  it  completely. 
Her  face  is  like  a  landscape  that  is  depressing 
in  winter,  magnificent  in  summer;  the  world  will 
always  see  it  in  winter.  When  she  talks  with 
friends  upon  some  literary  or  philosophical  subject, 
upon  religious  questions  in  which  she  is  interested, 
her  face  lights  up,  an  unknown  woman  of  marvel- 
lous beauty  suddenly  appears  before  you." 

This  declaration,  based  upon  the  speaker's  ob- 
servation of  the  phenomenon  which  formerly  ren- 
dered Veronique  so  beautiful  as  she  walked  away 
from  the  communion  table,  made  a  great  sensation 
in  Limoges,  where,  for  the  moment,  the  new  deputy 
attorney,  who  had  been  promised,  so  it  was  said, 
the  place  of  avocat-general,  occupied  a  position  of 
much  prominence.  In  all  provincial  towns,  a  man 
who  stands  on  a  slightly  higher  level  than  other  men 
becomes  for  a  greater  or  less  time  the  object  of  a 
passing  admiration  which  resembles  enthusiasm,  and 
which  deceives  its  object.  It  is  to  this  social  caprice 
that  we  owe  the  arrondissement  geniuses,  the  un- 
appreciated men  and  their  imaginary  talents  con- 
stantly humiliated.  The  man  whom  women  thus 
bring  into  fashion  is  more  frequently  a  stranger  than 
a  native  of  the  province;  but  with  regard  to  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  63 

Vicomte  de  Granville,  this  admiration,  as  rarely 
happens,  was  not  misplaced.  Madame  Graslin  was 
the  only  person  with  whom  the  Parisian  had  been 
able  to  exchange  his  ideas  and  to  carry  on  a  conver- 
sation upon  different  subjects.  A  few  months  after 
his  arrival,  the  deputy,  attracted  by  the  growing 
charm  of  Veronique's  conversation  and  manners, 
proposed  to  Abbe  Dutheil  and  some  notabilities  of 
the  town  that  they  should  play  whist  regularly  at 
Madame  Graslin 's.  Thereafter  Veronique  received 
five  times  a  week,  for  she  wished  to  leave  two  days 
free  for  her  household  duties,  she  said.  When  she 
had  about  her  the  only  men  of  superior  parts  in  the 
town,  some  other  persons  were  not  slow  to  award 
themselves  letters-patent  of  intellectual  eminence  by 
joining  the  circle.  Veronique  received  the  three  or 
four  most  prominent  officers  of  the  garrison  and  the 
commandant's  staff.  The  freedom  of  speech  which 
her  guests  enjoyed,  the  absolute  discretion  to  which 
they  were  bound,  without  definite  agreement,  and 
simply  by  adopting  the  manners  of  the  best  society, 
made  her  extremely  strict  regarding  the  admission 
of  those  who  intrigued  to  obtain  that  honor.  The 
women  of  the  town  were  not  exempt  from  jealousy 
at  the  sight  of  Madame  Graslin  surrounded  by  the 
cleverest  and  most  agreeable  men  in  Limoges;  but 
her  power  gained  in  extent  in  proportion  to  the 
reserve  she  showed;  she  admitted  four  or  five 
women  who  had  come  from  Paris  with  their  hus- 
bands, and  who  held  in  horror  the  gossiping  pro- 
pensity of  provincials.  If  any  person  outside  of 


64  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

that  select  circle  chanced  to  call,  the  subject  of 
conversation  was  changed  at  once  by  tacit  agree- 
ment, and  the  habitues  of  the  salon  talked  on  trivial 
subjects  only. 

Thus  the  h6tel  Graslin  was  an  oasis  where  supe- 
rior minds  escaped  the  ennui  of  provincial  life, 
where  men  connected  with  the  government  could 
open  their  hearts  upon  politics  without  having  to 
fear  that  their  words  would  be  repeated,  where 
everything  that  was  laughable  was  laughed  at  in  a 
refined  way,  where  everyone  laid  aside  his  pro- 
fessional coat  and  allowed  his  true  character  to 
assert  itself.  Thus,  after  having  been  the  most 
obscure  girl  in  Limoges,  after  having  been  esteemed 
foolish,  ignorant,  and  ugly,  Madame  Graslin,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1828,  was  considered  the  first 
person  in  the  town  and  the  most  illustrious  of  her 
own  sex.  No  one  came  to  see  her  in  the  morning, 
for  everyone  knew  her  benevolent  habits,  and  the 
punctuality  with  which  she  performed  her  religious 
duties;  she  almost  always  went  to  the  first  mass,  in 
order  not  to  delay  her  husband's  breakfast,  for, 
although  he  was  hopelessly  irregular,  she  wished 
always  to  wait  upon  him.  Graslin  had  at  last 
become  used  to  his  wife  in  that  trivial  detail.  He 
never  missed  an  opportunity  to  praise  her,  he  con- 
sidered her  an  accomplished  woman;  she  never 
asked  him  for  anything,  he  could  heap  crown  upon 
crown  and  cut  a  broad  swath  in  the  business  field; 
he  had  begun  to  have  transactions  with  the  house  of 
Brezac,  he  was  sailing  constantly  forward  upon  the 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  65 

commercial  ocean;  his  over-excited  selfishness  kept 
him  in  the  frantic  yet  tranquil  condition  of  a  gambler 
on  the  watch  for  important  events  on  the  green  cloth 
of  speculation. 

During  that  happy  time,  which  lasted  until  the 
beginning  of  1829,  Madame  Graslin,  in  the  eyes 
of  her  friends,  attained  a  veritably  extraordinary 
beauty,  the  causes  of  which  were  never  satisfactorily 
explained.  The  blue  of  the  iris  expanded  like  a 
flower,  and  contracted  the  brown  circle  of  the  pupil, 
seeming  to  be  dipped  in  a  moist,  languishing  light, 
overflowing  with  love.  Her  forehead,  illumined  by 
memories,  by  happy  thoughts,  grew  white  like  a 
mountain  peak  at  dawn,  and  the  lines  of  her  face 
were  purified  by  some  inward  fire.  Her  face  lost 
those  bright  brown  tints  which  denoted  the  begin- 
ning of  inflammation  of  the  liver,  the  disease  of  vig- 
orous constitutions  or  of  persons  whose  hearts  are 
ill  at  ease,  whose  affections  are  thwarted.  Her 
temples  became  beautifully  smooth  and  white.  In 
fact,  her  friends  saw,  at  intervals,  the  divine  face, 
worthy  of  Raphael,  which  disease  had  blurred,  as 
time  dims  one  of  that  great  artist's  canvases.  Her 
hands  seemed  whiter,  her  shoulders  became  de- 
liciously  plump  and  round;  her  graceful,  animated 
movements  exhibited  her  lithe,  flexible  figure  to 
the  best  advantage.  The  women  of  the  town 
accused  her  of  loving  Monsieur  de  Granville,  who 
paid  assiduous  court  to  her,  and  against  whom 
she  erected  the  barriers  of  a  pious  resistance. 
The  deputy  attorney  professed  for  her  a  respectful 
5 


66  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

admiration  which  did  not  deceive  the  habitues  of  her 
salon.  The  priests  and  the  men  of  intellect  were 
well  aware  that  that  attachment,  amorous  though  it 
was  on  the  part  of  the  young  magistrate,  did  not  go 
beyond  proper  limits  in  the  case  of  Madame  Graslin. 
Weary  of  a  resistance  based  upon  the  most  pious 
sentiments,  the  Vicomte  de  Granville,  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  members  of  that  circle,  formed  more 
compliant  friendships,  which,  however,  did  not 
interfere  with  his  constant  admiration  and  worship 
of  the  fair  Madame  Graslin,  for  so  was  she  called  at 
Limoges  in  1829. 

The  most  clear-sighted  attributed  the  change  of 
features,  which  rendered  Veronique  more  charming 
than  ever  to  her  friends,  to  the  secret  delight  that 
every  woman  feels,  even  the  most  devout,  in  being 
courted,  in  the  satisfaction  of  living  at  last  in  the 
environment  best  suited  to  her  mind,  in  the  pleasure 
of  exchanging  her  ideas,  a  pleasure  that  put  an  end 
to  the  ennui  of  her  life,  in  the  joy  of  being  sur- 
rounded by  agreeable,  educated  men,  true  friends 
whose  attachment  waxed  stronger  from  day  to  day. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  required  even  more  profound, 
more  keen-sighted  or  more  suspicious  observers 
than  the  habitues  of  the  hStel  Graslin  to  divine 
the  savage  grandeur,  the  strength  characteristic  of 
the  common  people,  which  Veronique  had  forced 
back  into  the  depths  of  her  being.  If,  as  some- 
times happened,  she  was  taken  by  surprise  when 
absorbed  in  meditation,  depressed,  perhaps,  or  simply 
pensive,  her  friends  all  knew  that  she  carried  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  67 

suffering  of  many  others  in  her  heart,  that  she 
had  probably  been  made  acquainted  that  morning 
with  many  new  miseries,  that  she  went  into  dens  of 
infamy  where  vice  was  appalling  in  its  openness. 
Often  the  deputy  attorney,  soon  appointed  avocat- 
general,  scolded  her  for  some  ill-advised  benefaction, 
which,  in  the  course  of  preliminary  investigations, 
the  authorities  had  found  to  be  an  encouragement  of 
projected  crimes. 

"  Do  you  need  money  for  any  of  your  poor?"  old 
Grossetete  would  say  to  her  at  such  times,  taking 
her  hand;  "  in  that  case  I  will  be  a  confederate  in 
your  benevolence." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  make  everybody  rich!"  she 
would  answer,  with  a  sigh. 

Early  in  the  year  1829,  the  event  occurred  that 
was  to  change  Veronique's  inward  life  completely 
and  to  transform  the  superb  expression  of  her  face, 
making  it,  by  the  way,  a  thousand  times  more  inter- 
esting in  the  eyes  of  painters.  Being  seriously 
alarmed  about  his  health,  Graslin,  to  his  wife's  great 
chagrin,  refused  to  occupy  longer  his  rooms  on  the 
ground-floor;  he  went  up  to  his  wife's  apartments, 
where  he  required  her  to  nurse  him.  Soon  there 
was  gossip  in  Limoges  concerning  Madame  Graslin's 
condition;  she  was  enceinte;  her  melancholy,  mingled 
with  joy,  preoccupied  her  friends,  who  then  divined 
that,  despite  her  virtuous  character,  she  had  been 
very  happy  to  live  apart  from  her  husband.  Per- 
haps she  had  hoped  for  a  more  brilliant  destiny, 
since  the  day  when  the  avocat-general  paid  court  to 


68  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

her  after  refusing  to  marry  the  wealthiest  heiress  in 
the  Limousin.  Thereafter  the  profound  politicians 
who  play  the  police,  as  to  sentiments  and  fortunes, 
between  two  games  of  whist,  had  suspected  the 
magistrate  and  the  young  woman  of  founding  upon 
the  banker's  feeble  health  hopes  that  were  well- 
nigh  ruined  by  that  event.  The  serious  mental 
troubles  that  marked  this  period  of  Veronique's  life, 
the  anxiety  which  a  first  confinement  causes  a 
woman,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  said  to  be  attended 
with  danger  when  it  happens  after  the  first  youth, 
made  her  friends  more  assiduous  in  their  atten- 
tions; each  of  them  showed  in  a  thousand  little 
ways  how  warm  and  enduring  their  affection  was. 


II 


TASCHERON 

In  that  same  year  Limoges  enjoyed  the  terrible 
spectacle  and  extraordinary  drama  of  the  Tascheron 
case,  in  which  the  young  Vicomte  de  Granville  dis- 
played the  talents  which  led  to  his  appointment 
to  the  office  of  procureur-general  at  a  later  period. 

An  old  man  who  lived  in  an  isolated  house  in 
Faubourg  Saint-Etienne  was  assassinated.  A  large 
orchard  separates  the  house  from  the  faubourg, 
and  it  is  separated  from  the  open  country  by  a 
flower-garden,  at  the  end  of  which  are  some  old 
abandoned  greenhouses.  The  bank  of  the  Vienne 
slopes  rapidly  in  front  of  the  estate,  being  so  steep 
that  the  river  can  be  seen  from  the  house.  The 
courtyard  extended  on  an  inclined  plane  to  the  top 
of  the  bank,  where  it  was  bounded  by  a  low  wall 
with  posts  at  equal  intervals  connected  by  a  fence, 
more  for  ornament  than  defence,  for  the  rails  were1 
of  painted  wood.  This  old  man,  named  Pingret, 
renowned  for  his  avarice,  lived  with  a  single  ser- 
vant, a  country-girl,  whom  he  required  to  do  his 
ploughing.  He  himself  tended  his  wall-fruits, 
trimmed  his  trees,  gathered  his  fruit,  and  sent  it 
(69) 


70  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

into  the  town  to  be  sold,  together  with  early  vege- 
tables, in  the  cultivation  of  which  he  excelled.  The 
old  man's  niece  and  sole  heiress,  married  to  a 
small  annuitant  in  the  town,  one  Monsieur  des 
Vanneaulx,  had  many  times  entreated  her  uncle  to 
hire  a  man  to  watch  his  house,  pointing  out  to 
him  that  he  would  /  save  by  it  the  crops  that 
might  be  raised  on  several  pieces  of  land  planted 
with  standard  trees,  where  he  himself  sowed  only 
wretched  grain,  but  he  had  persistently  refused. 
This  inconsistency  in  a  miser  furnished  food  for 
conjecture  in  the  houses  where  the  Des  Vanneaulx 
passed  their  evenings.  More  than  once  the  games 
of  boston  were  interrupted  by  the  most  diverse  com- 
ments. Some  cunning  wags  concluded  that  there 
was  a  treasure  hidden  under  the  grass. 

"  If  I  were  in  Madame  des  Vanneaulx's  place,"  said 
one  pleasant  joker,  "  I  would  not  worry  my  uncle; 
if  they  murder  him,  why,  they'll  murder  him.  I 
would  take  the  inheritance." 

Madame  des  Vanneaulx  tried  to  make  her  uncle 
provide  for  his  safety,  as  the  managers  of  the 
Theatre-Italien  beg  their  popular  tenor  to  cover  his 
throat  well,  and  lend  him  their  cloaks  when  he  has 
forgotten  his  own.  She  had  presented  little  Pingret 
with  a  magnificent  watch-dog,  and  the  old  man  sent 
him  back  by  Jeanne  Malassis,  his  servant. 

"Your  uncle  don't  want  another  mouth  in  the 
house  to  feed,"  she  told  Madame  des  Vanneaulx. 

The  result  proved  how  well  founded  were  the 
niece's  fears.  Pingret  was  murdered  one  dark 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  71 

night,  in  the  middle  of  a  field  of  lucerne,  where 
he  was  probably  adding  a  few  louis  to  the  contents 
of  a  pot  of  gold.  The  servant,  aroused  by  the 
struggle,  had  the  courage  to  run  to  the  old  miser's 
assistance,  and  the  murderer  had  found  that  he 
must  kill  her  in  order  to  suppress  her  testimony. 
That  reflection,  which  almost  always  leads  assassins 
to  add  to  the  number  of  their  victims,  is  inspired  by 
the  capital  punishment  that  looms  before  them. 
This  double  murder  was  attended  by  curious  cir- 
cumstances, which  were  likely  to  aid  the  prosecu- 
tion as  much  as  the  defence.  When  the  neighbors 
passed  a  whole  morning  without  seeing  little  Pingret 
or  his  servant;  when,  as  they  went  and  came,  they 
scrutinized  his  house  through  the  wooden  fence  and 
saw  the  doors  and  windows  closed  contrary  to  all 
custom,  there  was  a  commotion  in  Faubourg  Saint- 
Etienne,  which  extended  as  far  as  Rue  des  Cloches, 
where  Madame  des  Vanneaulx  lived.  The  niece's 
thoughts  were  always  filled  with  a  possible  disaster; 
she  notified  the  authorities,  who  burst  in  the  doors. 
They  soon  discovered,  in  the  four  plots  of  land,  four 
empty  holes,  surrounded  by  the  debris  of  pots  that 
were  filled  with  gold  the  night  before.  In  two  holes 
that  had  been  partly  filled,  the  bodies  of  Pingret  and 
Jeanne  Malassis  had  been  buried  in  their  clothes. 
The  poor  girl  had  run  to  the  spot,  with  bare  feet,  in 
her  chemise. 

While  the  king's  attorney,  the  commissioner  of 
police,  and  the  examining  magistrate  were  collecting 
the  elements  of  a  prosecution,  the  unfortunate  Des 


72  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Vanneaulx  picked  up  the  debris  of  the  pots,  and  cal- 
culated the  amount  stolen  according  to  their  capacity. 
The  magistrates  admitted  the  accuracy  of  his  calcu- 
lations, estimating  the  vanished  treasure  at  a  thou- 
sand pieces  per  pot;  but  were  they  pieces  of  forty- 
eight  or  forty,  twenty-four  or  twenty  francs?  All 
those  who  were  awaiting  inheritances  in  Limoges 
shared  the  grief  of  the  Des  Vanneaulx.  The  Limou- 
sin imagination  was  intensely  excited  by  the  sight 
of  those  broken  pots  of  gold.  As  for  little  Pere  Pin- 
gret,  who  used  often  to  come  to  market  himself  with 
vegetables  to  sell,  who  lived  on  bread  and  onions, 
who  did  not  spend  three  hundred  francs  a  year,  who 
never  obliged  or  disobliged  a  human  being,  and  who 
had  never  done  one  sou's  worth  of  good  in  Faubourg 
Saint-Etienne,  not  the  slightest  regret  was  felt  for 
him.  As  to  Jeanne  Malassis,  her  heroism,  which 
the  old  miser  had  ill  rewarded,  was  considered  ill 
judged;  the  number  of  people  who  admired  her  was 
small  in  comparison  to  those  who  said:  "For  my 
part,  I'd  have  slept  right  on!"  The  law  officers 
found  neither  ink  nor  pen  with  which  to  draw  up 
their  report  in  that  bare,  dilapidated,  cold,  uninviting 
house.  The  curious  bystanders  and  the  heir-at-law 
thereupon  discovered  evidences  of  the  contrasts  that 
are  noticeable  in  some  misers.  The  little  old  man's 
dismay  at  the  thought  of  any  additional  expense  was 
manifest  in  the  unrepaired  roofs  which  showed  their 
open  sides  to  the  light,  the  rain,  and  the  snow;  in  the 
green  cracks  with  which  the  walls  were  furrowed,  in 
the  rotten  doors  ready  to  fall  at  the  slightest  touch, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  73 

and  in  the  windows  stuffed  with  unoiled  paper. 
Everywhere  curtainless  windows,  fireplaces  without 
mirrors  or  andirons,  the  clean  hearths  being  furnished 
with  a  single  log  or  with  small  wood  almost  coated 
with  soot  from  the  flue;  broken-legged  chairs,  two 
thin,  flat  couches,  cracked  kettles,  mended  plates, 
one-armed  armchairs;  at  Pingret's  bed  were  curtains 
which  Time  had  embroidered  with  his  audacious 
hands;  a  worm-eaten  desk,  in  which  he  kept  his 
seeds;  linen  thickened  by  darns  and  patches;  and  a 
pile  of  rags  which  lived  only  when  sustained  by  the 
master's  mind,  and  which,  when  he  was  dead,  fell 
in  tatters,  in  dust,  in  chemical  dissolution,  in  ruins, 
in  an  indefinable  nameless  something,  as  soon  as  the 
brutal  hands  of  the  frantic  heir  or  the  officers  of  the 
law  touched  them.  Those  things  disappeared  as  if 
terrified  by  the  thought  of  a  public  sale.  The  great 
majority  of  the  people  in  the  capital  of  the  Limousin 
were  deeply  interested  in  the  good  Des  Vanneaulx, 
who  had  two  children;  but,  when  the  authorities  be- 
lieved that  they  had  found  the  presumed  author  of 
the  crime,  that  personage  monopolized  public  atten- 
tion, he  became  a  hero,  and  the  Des  Vanneaulx 
remained  in  the  shadow  of  the  picture. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  month  of  March,  Madame 
Graslin  had  experienced  some  of  those  discomforts 
which  are  caused  by  a  first  pregnancy,  and  which 
cannot  be  concealed.  The  authorities  were  still  in- 
vestigating the  crime  committed  in  Faubourg  Saint- 
Etienne,  and  the  assassin  had  not  been  arrested. 
Veronique  received  her  friends  in  her  bedroom  and 


74  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

they  played  whist  there.  Madame  Graslin  had  not 
been  out  for  several  days;  she  had  had  several  of 
those  curious  caprices  which  are  related  of  all  women 
in  her  condition;  her  mother  came  to  see  her  almost 
every  day,  and  they  remained  together  for  hours  at 
a  time.  It  was  nine  o'clock,  the  card-tables  were 
neglected,  for  everybody  was  talking  about  the  mur- 
der and  the  Des  Vanneaulx.  The  avocat-general 
appeared. 

"  We  have  Pere  Pingret's  murderer!"  he  said  in  a 
tone  of  satisfaction. 

"Who  is  it?"  was  asked  on  all  sides. 

"A  workman  in  a  porcelain  factory,  whose  pre- 
vious conduct  has  been  exemplary,  and  who  was  in 
a  fair  way  to  make  a  fortune. — He  worked  in  the 
factory  your  husband  formerly  owned,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Madame  Graslin. 

"  Who  is  he?"  asked  Veronique  in  a  weak  voice. 

"Jean-Francois  Tascheron." 

"  Poor  fellow!"  she  cried.  "  Yes,  I  have  seen 
him'several  times;  my  poor  father  recommended  him 
to  me  as  a  fine  fellow." 

"He  left  the  factory  before  Sauviat  died,  and  went 
to  work  for  the  Philipparts,  who  did  better  by  him," 
observed  old  Mere  Sauviat. — "  But  is  my  daughter 
well  enough  to  listen  to  this  conversation?"  she 
said,  glancing  at  Madame  Graslin,  who  had  turned 
as  white  as  her  sheets. 

After  that  evening,  Mere  Sauviat  left  her  house, 
and  constituted  herself  her  daughter's  nurse,  despite 
her  sixty -six  years.  She  never  left  the  room; 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  75 

Madame  Graslin's  friends  found  her  at  all  hours 
stationed  heroically  at  her  daughter's  pillow,  where 
she  devoted  her  time  to  her  eternal  knitting,  shel- 
tering Veronique  with  her  glance,  as  at  the  time  of 
the  small-pox,  answering  for  her,  and  sometimes 
turning  visitors  away.  The  maternal  and  filial  love 
of  the  mother  and  daughter  was  so  well  known  in 
Limoges  that  the  old  woman's  actions  surprised  no 
one.  A  few  days  later,  when  the  avocat-general 
attempted  to  give  some  details  which  the  whole 
town  was  intensely  eager  to  know  concerning  Jean- 
Francois  Tascheron,  thinking  that  it  might  amuse 
the  invalid,  La  Sauviat  interrupted  him  abruptly, 
saying  that  he  would  cause  Madame  Graslin  to  have 
more  bad  dreams.  But  Veronique,  gazing  earnestly 
at  Monsieur  de  Granville,  begged  him  to  go  on. 
Thus  Madame  de  Graslin's  friends  were  the  first  to 
learn,  and  at  her  house,  from  the  mouth  of  the 
avocat-general,  the  result  of  the  investigation,  which 
was  soon  to  be  made  public.  These,  succinctly 
stated,  are  the  main  points  of  the  indictment  which 
the  prosecuting  officers  were  then  preparing: 

Jean-Francois  Tascheron  was  the  son  of  a  small 
farmer  burdened  with  a  family,  who  lived  in  the 
village  of  Montegnac.  Twenty  years  before  this 
crime,  famous  in  the  annals  of  the  Limousin,  the 
canton  of  Montegnac  was  notorious  for  its  lax  morals. 
The  prosecuting  officers  at  Limoges  used  to  say  that 
of  every  hundred  criminals  convicted  in  the  depart- 
ment, fifty  were  from  the  arrondissement  which 
included  Montegnac.  Since  1816,  two  years  after 


76  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

the  arrival  of  the  cure  Bonnet,  Montegnac  had  lost 
its  unsavory  reputation,  its  people  had  ceased  to 
send  their  contingent  to  the  assizes.  That  change 
was  generally  attributed  to  the  influence  of  Monsieur 
Bonnet  in  the  commune,  formerly  the  breeding-place 
of  the  scoundrels  who  ravaged  the  country-side. 

The  crime  of  Jean-Francois  Tascheron  suddenly 
restored  to  Montegnac  its  old-time  celebrity.  By  a 
strange  caprice  of  chance,  the  Tascheron  family  was 
almost  the  only  one  in  the  district  which  had  pre- 
served the  exemplary,  old-fashioned  morals  and  the 
religious  habits  which  careful  observers  see  to  be 
disappearing  more  and  more  rapidly  in  the  country 
districts;  it  had,  therefore,  been  the  mainstay  of  the 
cure,  to  whose  heart  its  members  were  naturally 
very  dear.  That  family,  remarkable  for  its  probity, 
its  unity,  and  its  fondness  for  work,  had  never  set 
aught  but  a  good  example  to  Jean-Francois  Tasche- 
ron. Led  to  Limoges  by  the  praiseworthy  ambition 
to  earn  a  fortune  honestly  in  the  manufacturing 
industry,  the  boy  had  left  the  village  to  the  regret 
of  his  parents  and  his  friends,  who  were  very  fond 
of  him.  During  his  two  years'  apprenticeship,  his 
conduct  was  worthy  of  all  praise;  no  visible  back- 
sliding had  foreshadowed  the  horrible  crime  which 
brought  his  life  to  an  end. 

Jean-Francois  Tascheron  had  passed  in  study 
and  self-improvement  the  time  that  other  workmen 
devote  to  the  wine-shop  and  to  dissipation.  The 
most  minute  investigations  of  the  provincial  authori- 
ties, who  have  much  time  to  themselves,  shed  no 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  77 

light  upon  the  secrets  of  that  existence.  Upon 
being  closely  questioned,  the  landlady  of  the  mean, 
furnished  lodging-house  where  Jean-Francois  lived 
said  that  she  had  never  had  a  young  man  in  her 
house  whose  morals  were  so  pure.  His  disposition 
was  amiable  and  sweet,  sometimes  joyous.  About 
a  year  before  the  commission  of  the  crime,  his 
humor  seemed  to  have  changed,  he  slept  abroad 
several  times  a  month,  often  several  nights  in  suc- 
cession. In  what  part  of  the  town  did  he  pass  those 
nights?  she  had  no  idea.  She  thought  sometimes, 
however,  from  the  condition  of  his  boots,  that  her 
lodger  had  been  in  the  country.  Although  he  evi- 
dently went  out  of  the  town,  instead  of  wearing  hob- 
nailed shoes,  he  wore  pumps.  Before  he  started,  he 
shaved,  put  on  clean  linen,  and  perfumed  himself. 
The  magistrates  carried  their  investigations  into  the 
houses  of  ill-repute  and  among  disorderly  women, 
but  Jean-Francois  Tascheron  was  unknown  there; 
they  sought  information  among  the  working-girls 
and  grisettes,  but  not  one  of  the  women  whose  con- 
duct was  open  to  reproach  had  had  any  relations 
with  the  accused  man. 

A  crime  without  a  motive  is  inconceivable,  es- 
pecially in  the  case  of  a  young  man  whose  leaning 
toward  self-improvement  and  whose  ambition  entitled 
him  to  be  accredited  with  ideas  and  common  sense 
on  a  higher  plane  than  those  of  other  workmen.  The 
prosecuting  officers  and  the  examining  magistrate 
attributed  the  crime  committed  by  Tascheron  to  the 
passion  for  play;  but  after  searching  investigation 


78  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

it  was  proved  that  the  accused  had  never,  gam- 
bled. Jean-Francois  took  refuge  at  first  in  a  sys- 
tem of  denial,  which  was  likely  to  fail  of  its  effect 
before  the  jury,  in  the  presence  of  proofs,  but  which 
indicated  the  intervention  of  some  person  well  ac- 
quainted with  judicial  procedure  or  endowed  with 
unusual  intelligence.  The  incriminating  facts,  of 
which  these  were  the  principal  ones,  were,  as  in 
many  cases  of  murder,  both  important  and  trivial: 
Tascheron's  absence  from  home  during  the  night  of 
the  crime  and  his  refusal  to  state  where  he  was,  for 
he  scorned  to  manufacture  an  alibi;  a  fragment  of 
his  blouse,  torn  away  without  his  knowledge  by  the 
poor  servant-girl  in  the  struggle,  and  found  in  a  tree, 
where  it  had  been  carried  by  the  wind;  his  presence 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  house  during  the  evening,  which 
was  noticed  by  passers-by  and  by  the  people  of  the 
faubourg,  and  which  none  of  them  would  ever  have 
remembered  except  for  the  crime;  a  false  key  made 
by  himself  to  enable  him  to  enter  by  the  door  open- 
ing on  the  fields,  and  adroitly  buried  in  one  of  the 
holes,  two  feet  below  the  body,  but  found  by  Mon- 
sieur des  Vanneaulx,  who  dug  down  to  see  if  the 
treasure-house  had  not  two  floors.  The  investiga- 
tion led  to  the  discovery  of  the  persons  who  fur- 
nished the  iron,  and  lent  the  vise  and  the  file.  That 
key  was  the  first  clew,  it  directed  suspicion  to  Tas- 
cheron,  who  was  arrested  on  the  boundary  line  of 
the  department,  in  a  wood  where  he  was  wait- 
ing for  a  diligence  to  pass.  An  hour  later,  he 
would  have  been  on  his  way  to  America.  Finally, 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  79 

notwithstanding  the  care  with  which  the  footprints 
were  effaced  in  the  ploughed  fields  and  in  the  muddy 
road,  the  municipal  keeper  found  prints  of  dancing 
pumps,  which  were  carefully  removed  and  pre- 
served. When  Tascheron's  room  was  searched, 
the  soles  of  his  pumps  were  placed  in  those  prints 
and  corresponded  perfectly.  This  fatal  coincidence 
confirmed  the  observations  of  the  inquisitive  land- 
lady. 

The  report  of  the  preliminary  investigation  attrib- 
uted the  crime  to  some  outside  influence  and  not  to 
the  initiative  of  the  accused;  it  inclined  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  had  had  an  accomplice,  which 
conclusion  was  confirmed  by  the  evident  impossibil- 
ity of  one  man  carrying  away  the  buried  treasure. 
However  strong  a  man  may  be,  he  does  not  carry 
twenty-five  thousand  francs  in  gold  a  very  great 
distance.  If  each  pot  had  contained  that  sum,  the 
four  would  have  necessitated  four  trips.  Now  there 
was  a  singular  circumstance  that  fixed  the  hour  at 
which  the  crime  was  committed.  In  the  alarm 
caused  by  her  master's  outcry,  Jeanne  Malassis, 
springing  from  her  bed,  had  overturned  the  night- 
stand  on  which  her  watch  lay;  that  watch,  the  only 
present  the  old  miser  had  given  her  in  five  years, 
had  its  mainspring  broken  by  the  fall;  it  marked 
two  o'clock.  In  the  middle  of  March,  when  the 
crime  was  committed,  the  sun  rises  between  five 
and  six  o'clock.  Thus,  whatever  distance  the 
money  had  been  carried,  Tascheron  could  not  have 
managed  the  transportation  alone,  according  to  the 


80  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

hypothesis  adopted  by  the  king's  attorney  and  the 
examining  magistrate.  The  care  with  which  Tasche- 
ron  had  obliterated  some  footprints,  while  neglect- 
ing his  own,  pointed  to  some  mysterious  assistance. 
Being  forced  to  invent  a  motive,  the  authorities 
attributed  the  crime  to  a  frantic  passion,  and  as 
they  failed  to  find  the  object  of  that  passion  among 
the  lower  classes,  they  looked  higher.  Perhaps 
some  bourgeoise,  sure  of  the  reticence  of  a  young 
man  cast  in  the  mould  of  a  fanatic,  had  inaugurated  a 
romance  of  which  this  was  the  ghastly  catastrophe. 
That  presumption  was  almost  justified  by  the  inci- 
dents of  the  murder.  The  old  man  had  been  killed 
by  blows  with  a  spade.  Therefore  the  crime  was 
the  result  of  a  sudden,  unlooked-for,  accidental 
fatality.  The  lovers  might  well  have  agreed  to 
commit  theft  and  not  murder.  Tascheron  the  lover, 
and  Pingret  the  miser,  two  intractable  passions,  had 
met  upon  the  same  spot,  both  drawn  thither  by  gold, 
in  the  dense  darkness  of  the  night. 

In  order  to  obtain  some  light  upon  this  obscure 
affair,  the  authorities  resorted  to  the  device  of  arrest- 
ing a  sister  whom  Jean-Francois  loved  dearly,  and 
placing  her  in  solitary  confinement,  hoping  to  pene- 
trate, through  her,  the  mystery  of  her  brother's 
private  life.  Denise  Tascheron  took  refuge  in  a 
policy  of  silence  enjoined  by  prudence,  which  caused 
her  to  be  suspected  of  having  knowledge  of  the  mo- 
tives of  the  crime,  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  That 
confinement  blasted  her  life.  The  accused  exhibited 
a  strength  of  character  very  rare  among  the  common 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  8 1 

people:  he  foiled  the  most  adroit  spies  with  whom  he 
was  brought  in  contact,  although  he  did  not  detect 
their  real  character.  Thus,  in  the  view  of  the  lead- 
ing lights  of  the  magistracy,  Jean-Francois  was  a 
criminal  from  passion,  not  from  necessity,  like  the 
majority  of  ordinary  assassins,  all  of  whom  pass 
through  the  police  court  and  the  galleys  before 
they  arrive  at  their  last  stroke.  An  active  and 
shrewd  investigation  was  instituted  in  the  line  of  this 
theory;  but  the  criminal's  unwavering  reticence  left 
them  with  nothing  to  work  upon.  As  soon  as  this 
plausible  romance  of  a  passion  for  a  woman  in  the 
higher  social  spheres  was  adopted,  Jean-Francois 
was  subjected  to  more  than  one  artful  examination, 
but  his  discretion  triumphed  over  all  the  moral  tor- 
tures which  the  skill  of  the  examining  magistrate  in- 
flicted upon  him.  When,  in  a  supreme  effort,  the 
magistrate  told  Tascheron  that  the  woman  for  whom 
he  had  committed  the  crime  was  known  and  arrested, 
his  expression  did  not  change,  and  he  contented  him- 
self with  replying  ironically: 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  her!" 

Upon  learning  these  circumstances,  many  per- 
sons shared  the  magistrate's  suspicions,  which  the 
moody  silence  maintained  by  the  accused  seemed 
to  confirm.  The  public  were  intensely  interested 
in  a  young  man  who  was  becoming  a  problem. 
Everyone  will  readily  understand  how  violently 
these  details  aroused  public  curiosity,  and  with  what 
avidity  the  trial  would  be  followed.  Despite  the 
probing  of  the  police,  the  prosecution  had  paused 
6 


82  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

upon  the  threshold  of  hypothesis,  not  daring  to 
penetrate  the  mystery,  it  scented  so  many  dangers 
therein!  In  certain  cases,  semi-certainty  is  not 
sufficient  for  the  magistrate.  It  was  hoped  that 
the  truth  would  come  forth  into  the  light  at  the 
Court  of  Assize,  where  many  criminals  contradict 
themselves. 

Monsieur  Graslin  was  one  of  the  jurors  drawn 
for  the  session,  so  that,  from  her  husband  or  from 
Monsieur  de  Granville,  Veronique  was  certain  to 
learn  the  smallest  details  of  the  criminal  trial  which 
kept  the  Limousin  and  all  France  in  a  state  of 
excitement  for  a  fortnight.  The  attitude  of  the 
accused  justified  the  theory  adopted  by  the  town 
in  accordance  with  the  conjectures  of  the  authori- 
ties; more  than  once  his  eyes  were  turned  upon 
the  throng  of  privileged  women  who  came  to  taste 
the  innumerable  emotions  of  that  drama  in  real  life. 
Each  time  that  his  glance  embraced  that  fashionable 
assemblage  with  a  clear  but  inscrutable  expression, 
there  was  a  violent  commotion,  everyone  was  so 
afraid  of  seeming  to  be  his  accomplice  to  the  search- 
ing eyes  of  the  prosecuting  officers  and  the  court. 

The  fruitless  efforts  of  the  authorities  were  made 
public,  and  disclosed  the  precautions  taken  by  the 
accused  to  assure  the  perfect  success  of  his  crime. 
Some  months  prior  to  the  fatal  night,  Jean-Francois 
had  provided  himself  with  a  passport  for  North 
America.  Thus  his  plan  of  leaving  France  had 
been  formed  long  before,  so  that  the  woman  must 
be  married,  for  it  would  be  useless  to  flee  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  83 

country  with  an  unmarried  woman.  Perhaps  the 
purpose  of  the  crime  had  been  to  place  this  un- 
known in  comfortable  circumstances.  The  authori- 
ties had  found  no  record  at  the  prefecture  of  any 
passport  for  that  country  issued  to  a  woman.  The 
records  at  Paris  had  been  consulted,  in  case  the 
accomplice  had  provided  herself  with  a  passport 
there;  but  in  vain;  and  the  same  with  the  neigh- 
boring prefectures.  The  most  trivial  details  of  the 
trial  disclosed  the  deep  thought  of  a  superior  mind. 
If  the  most  virtuous  Limousin  ladies  attributed  the 
inexplicable  use  of  dancing  shoes  for  travelling  about 
in  the  mud  and  the  fields  to  the  necessity  of  keeping 
watch  on  old  Pingret,  the  least  stupid  men  were 
enchanted  to  explain  how  useful  pumps  were  for 
walking  about  in  a  house,  creeping  through  corridors 
and  climbing  up  to  windows  without  noise.  It  was 
evident,  therefore,  that  Jean-Francois  and  his  mis- 
tress— young,  beautiful,  romantic;  everyone  im- 
agined her  a  superb  creature  —  had  intended  to 
commit  forgery,  and  to  insert  the  words  and  his 
wife  in  the  passport.  In  the  evening,  in  all  the 
salons,  the  games  were  interrupted  by  the  malicious 
comments  of  people  who,  going  back  to  March, 
1829,  enumerated  the  women  who  were  at  that  time 
visiting  in  Paris,  and  others  who  might,  ostensibly 
or  secretly,  have  made  preparations  for  flight. 
Limoges  enjoyed  a  second  Fualdes  trial,  embellished 
with  an  unknown  Madame  Manson.  Never  was  a 
town  more  puzzled  than  Limoges  every  evening 
after  the  session.  People  dreamed  of  the  trial,  in 


84  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

which  everything  tended  to  magnify  the  prisoner, 
whose  replies,  cunningly  repeated,  extended  and 
commented  on,  gave  rise  to  abundant  discussion. 
When  one  of  the  jurors  asked  why  Tascheron  had 
procured  a  passport  for  America,  he  replied  that  he 
intended  to  set  up  a  porcelain  factory  there.  Thus, 
without  compromising  his  system  of  defence,  he 
continued  to  shield  his  accomplice,  making  it  possi- 
ble for  everyone  to  attribute  his  crime  to  the  neces- 
sity of  obtaining  money  to  accomplish  an  ambitious 
scheme.  When  these  discussions  were  at  their 
height,  it  was  inevitable  that  Veronique's  friends, 
some  evening,  when  she  seemed  somewhat  better, 
should  attempt  to  explain  the  criminal's  reticence. 
The  day  before,  the  doctor  had  prescribed  a  walk 
for  Veronique.  That  very  morning,  therefore,  she 
had  taken  her  mother's  arm  and  walked  around  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  as  far  as  La  Sauviat's  country- 
house,  where  she  had  rested.  Upon  her  return  she 
had  attempted  to  remain  on  her  feet  and  had  waited 
for  her  husband.  Graslin  did  not  return  from  the 
court  until  eight  o'clock;  she  came  from  her  room  to 
serve  his  dinner  as  usual;  she  necessarily  heard  the 
discussion  of  her  friends. 

"If  my  poor  father  were  still  alive,"  Veronique 
said  to  them,  "we  should  have  known  more  about 
it,  or  perhaps  this  man  would  never  have  become  a 
criminal. — But  I  see  that  you  are  all  engrossed  by  a 
strange  idea!  You  insist  that  love  was  the  moving 
principle  of  the  crime:  so  far  I  agree  with  you;  but 
why  do  you  think  that  the  unknown  is  a  married 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  85 

woman?  May  he  not  have  loved  some  young  girl 
whose  father  and  mother  refused  him  her  hand?" 

"  A  young  unmarried  woman  would  have  be- 
longed to  him  legitimately  sooner  or  later,"  replied 
Monsieur  de  Granville.  "  Tascheron  is  a  man  who 
does  not  lack  patience,  he  would  have  had  time  to 
make  his  fortune  by  honest  means,  pending  the  time 
when  every  girl  is  free  to  marry  against  her  parents' 
will." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  such  marriages  were  pos- 
sible," said  Madame  Graslin;  "but  how  is  it  that 
there  never  has  been  the  slightest  suspicion  in  a 
town  where  everyone  knows  everyone  else,  where 
everyone  sees  what  is  going  on  at  his  neighbor's? 
If  two  people  are  in  love,  they  must  see  each  other, 
or  at  least  must  have  seen  each  other!  What  do 
you  magistrates  think?"  she  inquired,  gazing  ear- 
nestly into  the  avocat-general's  eyes. 

"We  all  believe  that  the  woman  belongs  to  the 
bourgeois  or  the  commercial  class." 

"  I  think  differently,"  said  Madame  Graslin,  "  a 
woman  of  that  kind  has  not  sufficiently  lofty  senti- 
ments." 

This  remark  caused  all  eyes  to  be  concentrated 
upon  Veronique,  and  the  whole  company  awaited  an 
explanation  of  the  paradox. 

"  During  the  hours  of  the  night  when  I  cannot 
sleep,  and  as  I  lie  in  bed  during  the  day,  I  have 
found  it  impossible  not  to  think  of  this  mysterious 
affair,  and  I  have  fancied  that  I  could  divine  Tas- 
cheron's  motives.  This  is  why  I  concluded  that  it 


86  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

was  an  unmarried  girl.  A  married  woman  has  self- 
ish interests,  if  not  sentiments,  which  have  some 
hold  upon  her  heart,  and  prevent  its  attaining  that 
condition  of  absolute  exaltation  which  inspires  such 
a  great  passion.  One  must  be  without  children  to 
be  capable  of  a  love  which  combines  the  sentiment 
of  maternity  with  those  sentiments  that  proceed 
from  desire.  Evidently  this  man  was  loved  by  a 
woman  who  wished  to  be  his  staff.  The  unknown 
must  have  put  forth  in  her  passion  the  genius  to 
which  we  owe  the  fine  works  of  artists  and  poets, 
and  which  exists  in  woman,  but  in  another  shape:  it 
is  destined  to  create  men,  not  things.  Our  works 
are  our  children!  Our  children  are  our  pictures, 
our  books,  our  statues.  Are  we  not  artists  in  their 
early  education?  So  that  I  would  be  willing  to 
wager  my  head  that  the  unknown,  even  if  she  be 
not  unmarried,  is  not  a  mother.  The  prosecuting 
officers  need  the  cunning  of  women  in  order  to  detect 
innumerable  fine  distinctions  which  escape  them  on 
many  occasions.  If  I  had  been  your  deputy,"  she 
said  to  the  avocat-general,  "  we  would  have  found 
the  guilty  woman,  assuming  that  the  unknown  is 
guilty.  I  agree  with  Monsieur  1'Abbe  Dutheil,  that 
the  lovers  had  conceived  the  idea  of  fleeing  with 
poor  Pingret's  treasure,  for  lack  of  money  to  live  in 
America.  The  theft  led  to  the  murder,  by  the  fatal 
logic  which  the  death  penalty  inspires  in  criminals. 
And  so,"  she  continued,  with  a  suppliant  glance  at 
the  avocat-general,  "  it  would  be  a  noble  thing  for 
you  to  abandon  the  charge  of  premeditation,  you 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  87 

would  save  the  wretched  man's  life.  That  man  is 
great,  notwithstanding  his  crime;  perhaps  he  would 
atone  for  his  errors  by  a  glorious  repentance.  The 
works  of  repentance  should  count  for  something  in 
the  estimation  of  the  law.  Is  there  no  better  way 
to-day,  than  to  lose  his  head,  or  to  found,  as  was 
once  done,  the  cathedral  of  Milan,  in  expiation  of 
his  offences?" 

"Your  ideas  are  sublime,  madame,"  said  the 
avocat-general;  "  but,  with  the  premeditation  elim- 
inated, Tascheron  would  still  be  liable  to  the  death 
penalty,  because  of  the  grave  circumstances,  estab- 
lished by  proof,  with  which  the  theft  was  attended: 
scaling  the  wall,  entering  the  house  in  the  night, 
etc." 

"  Then  you  think  that  he  will  be  convicted?"  she 
said,  lowering  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,  the  prosecution  will  win." 

A  slight  shudder  caused  Madame  Graslin's  dress 
to  rustle. 

"  I  am  cold!"  she  said. 

She  took  her  mother's  arm  and  went  to  bed. 

"She  is  much  better  to-day,"  her  friends  said. 

The  next  day  Veronique  was  at  death's  door. 
When  her  doctor  expressed  his  amazement  at  find- 
ing her  so  critically  ill,  she  said  to  him,  with  a 
smile: 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  that  walk  would  do  me 
no  good?" 

From  the  opening  of  the  trial,  Tascheron 's  con- 
duct was  equally  free  from  swaggering  and  from 


88  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

hypocrisy.  The  doctor,  to  amuse  the  invalid,  tried 
to  account  for  this  attitude,  of  which  his  defenders 
made  the  best  possible  use.  His  counsel's  skill 
deceived  the  accused  as  to  the  result;  he  believed 
that  he  would  escape  death,  said  the  doctor.  At 
times  people  noticed  on  his  face  a  hope  which 
seemed  to  have  reference  to  a  joy  greater  than  that 
of  living.  The  man's  antecedents — he  was  twenty- 
three  years  old  at  this  time — were  so  at  variance 
with  the  actions  with  which  his  life  ended,  that  his 
defenders  put  forward  his  attitude  as  conclusive  evi- 
dence in  his  favor.  In  like  manner,  the  proofs, 
which  were  overwhelming  according  to  the  theory 
of  the  prosecution,  became  so  weak  in  the  roman- 
tic hypothesis  of  the  defence,  that  the  chances  in 
the  contest  for  the  man's  head  were  considered  to 
favor  his  counsel.  In  order  to  save  his  client's  life, 
the  advocate  fought  desperately  on  the  subject  of 
premeditation;  he  admitted,  hypothetically,  the  pre- 
meditation of  the  theft,  not  that  of  the  homicides, 
which  were  the  result  of  two  unforeseen  struggles. 
Success  seemed  doubtful  to  the  prosecuting  officers 
themselves,  as  well  as  to  the  bar. 

After  the  doctor's  visit,  Veronique  received  a  call 
from  the  avocat-general,  who  came  to  see  her  every 
morning  before  the  session. 

"I  read  the  arguments  yesterday,"  she  said. 
"  To-day  the  rebuttal  will  begin;  I  am  so  deeply- 
interested  in  the  prisoner  that  I  would  like  to  see 
him  acquitted;  can  you  not,  for  once  in  your  life, 
renounce  a  triumph?  Allow  the  prisoner's  counsel 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  89 

to  whip  you.  Come,  make  me  a  present  of  this 
life,  and  perhaps  you  will  have  mine  some  day! — 
There  is  a  doubt,  according  to  the  fine  argument  of 
Tascheron's  advocate;  very  good — " 

"Your  voice  is  trembling,"  said  the  viscount,  in 
some  surprise. 

"Do  you  know  why?"  she  replied.  "My  hus- 
band has  suggested  a  ghastly  coincidence,  which,  in 
my  precarious  condition,  might  well  cause  my  death: 
1  shall  be  confined  just  at  the  time  that  you  give  the 
order  to  cut  off  that  man's  head!" 

"Can  I  revise  the  Code?"  said  the  avocat-gene- 
ral. 

"  Ah!  you  do  not  know  how  to  love!"  she  replied, 
closing  her  eyes. 

She  let  her  head  fall  on  the  pillow,  and  dismissed 
the  magistrate  with  an  imperious  gesture. 

Monsieur  Graslin  argued  earnestly  but  ineffec- 
tually for  acquittal,  giving  a  reason  which  his  wife 
had  suggested  to  him,  and  which  was  adopted  by 
two  jurors  who  were  friends  of  his:  "If  we  give 
this  man  his  life,  the  Des  Vanneaulx  family  will 
recover  Pingret's  money."  That  irresistible  argu- 
ment led  to  a  division  among  the  jurors,  who  stood 
seven  against  five,  which  necessitated  the  interposi- 
tion of  the  court;  but  the  court  agreed  with  the 
minority  of  the  jury.  According  to  the  law  then 
in  force,  that  combination  resulted  in  a  conviction. 
When  his  sentence  was  pronounced,  Tascheron  fell 
into  a  frenzy  of  rage  not  unnatural  in  a  man  full  of 
vigor  and  life,  but  which,  according  to  the  common 


90  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

experience  of  judges,  counsel,  jury,  and  spectators, 
is  seldom  seen  in  criminals  unjustly  convicted.  It 
was  the  universal  opinion,  therefore,  that  the  drama 
was  not  concluded  by  the  sentence.  That  desperate 
battle  gave  rise,  as  almost  always  happens  in  such 
cases,  to  two  diametrically  opposite  opinions  con- 
cerning the  guilt  of  the  hero,  in  whom  some  saw  a 
persecuted  innocent,  others  a  criminal  justly  con- 
demned. The  liberals  maintained  Tascheron's  inno- 
cence, less  from  conviction  than  as  a  means  of 
annoying  the  government. 

"The  idea,"  they  said,  "of  convicting  a  man 
because  of  a  similarity  between  his  foot  and  the 
print  of  another  foot!  Or  on  account  of  his  absence! 
as  if  every  young  man  would  not  prefer  to  die 
rather  than  compromise  a  woman!  Or  was  it  be- 
cause he  borrowed  tools  and  bought  iron?  for  it 
wasn't  proved  that  he  made  the  key.  Or  because 
of  a  bit  of  blue  cotton  hung  on  a  tree,  perhaps  by 
old  Pingret  himself  to  scare  away  the  sparrows,  and 
that  happens  to  match  a  rent  in  one's  blouse?  What 
is  a  man's  life  good  for?  And  Jean-Francois  denies 
everything;  the  prosecution  hasn't  produced  a  single 
witness  who  saw  the  crime!" 

They  approved,  expanded,  paraphrased  the  the- 
ory and  the  arguments  of  the  prisoner's  coun- 
sel. "What  was  old  Pingret?  A  burst  strong-box!" 
said  the  wits.  Some  alleged  radicals,  disregarding 
the  sacred  laws  of  property,  which  the  Saint- 
Simonians  were  already  attacking  in  the  abstract 
order  of  economical  ideas,  went  still  further:  "  Pdre 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  QI 

Pingret  was  the  original  author  of  the  crime.  That 
man,  by  hoarding  gold  as  he  did,  robbed  his  country. 
How  many  enterprises  might  have  been  made  pro- 
ductive by  his  useless  capital!  He  had  blocked  the 
wheels  of  business,  he  was  justly  punished."  The 
servant?  they  were  sorry  for  her.  Denise,  who, 
after  evading  the  wiles  of  the  prosecution,  did  not 
allow  herself  to  make  an  answer  at  the  trial  until 
she  had  reflected  a  long  while  upon  what  she  should 
say,  aroused  the  keenest  interest.  She  was  trans- 
formed into  a  figure  comparable,  in  some  sense,  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  whose  grace  and  modesty,  religious 
principles  and  beauty,  she  possessed.  Jean-Francois 
Tascheron  continued,  therefore,  to  monopolize  the 
interest,  not  of  the  town  alone,  but  of  the  whole 
department,  and  some  romantic  women  openly  ac- 
corded him  their  admiration. 

"If  there  is  a  passion  for  a  woman  of  higher 
station  than  himself  behind  all  this,"  they  said, 
"that  man  certainly  is  no  ordinary  man.  You  will 
see  that  he  will  die  bravely!" 

The  question:  "Will  he  speak  or  will  he  not?" 
gave  rise  to  wagers.  Since  the  frantic  outbreak 
with  which  he  had  received  his  sentence,  and  which 
might  have  been  fatal  to  some  of  the  court  officials 
or  spectators  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of 
the  gendarmes,  the  criminal  threatened  all  who 
approached  him,  indiscriminately,  and  with  the  fury 
of  a  wild  beast;  the  jailer  was  forced  to  put  a 
strait-jacket  on  him  as  much  to  prevent  his  attempt- 
ing to  take  his  own  life,  as  to  avoid  the  effects  of  his 


92  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

frenzy.  When  he  was  thus  triumphantly  rendered 
incapable  of  any  sort  of  violence,  Tascheron  gave 
vent  to  his  despair  in  convulsive  movements  which 
frightened  his  keepers,  in  words  and  glances  which 
in  the  Middle  Ages  would  have  been  attributed  to 
possession  by  a  devil.  He  was  so  young  that  the 
women  were  moved  to  pity  touching  that  life  so  full 
of  love,  which  was  to  be  cut  short.  The  Last  Day 
of  a  Condemned,  a  gloomy  elegy,  a  fruitless  argument 
against  the  death  penalty,  that  great  prop  of  society, 
which  had  appeared  a  short  time  before,  as  if  writ- 
ten expressly  for  the  occasion,  was  the  order  of  the 
day  in  all  conversations.  Lastly,  who  did  not  point 
with  his  finger  to  the  invisible  unknown,  standing 
with  her  feet  bathed  in  blood,  upon  the  floor  of 
the  court-room,  as  upon  a  pedestal,  torn  by  horrible 
agony  and  compelled  to  maintain  a  perfectly  tranquil 
demeanor  in  her  own  home?  People  almost  admired 
that  Limousin  Medea,  with  the  white  breast  covering 
a  heart  of  steel,  and  the  impenetrable  mask.  Per- 
haps she  was  in  this  one's  family  or  that  one's,  the 
sister  or  the  cousin,  the  wife  or  daughter  of  such  a 
one!  What  terror  in  the  bosom  of  families!  As 
Napoleon  sublimely  said,  it  is  especially  in  the  do- 
main of  the  imagination  that  the  power  of  the 
unknown  is  immeasurable. 

As  for  the  hundred  thousand  francs  stolen  from 
Monsieur  and  Madame  des  Vanneaulx,  which  the 
police  had  been  absolutely  unable  to  find,  the  crimi- 
nal's unbroken  silence  was  singularly  discomfiting  to 
the  prosecution.  Monsieur  de  Granville,  who  acted 


THE  VILLAGE    CURE  93 

in  the  place  of  the  procur  cur-general,  then  in  his 
seat  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  tried  the  common 
method  of  giving  the  condemned  man  reason  to  hope 
for  commutation  of  sentence  in  case  of  full  con- 
fession; but  when  he  made  his  appearance,  the 
criminal  greeted  him  with  fierce  cries  of  redoubled 
violence,  with  epileptic  contortions,  and  glared  at 
him  with  eyes  flaming  with  rage  and  expressing 
regret  at  his  inability  to  kill  him.  The  authorities 
did  not  call  upon  the  Church  for  assistance  until  the 
last  moment.  The  Des  Vanneaulx  had  been  many 
times  to  Abbe  Pascal,  the  chaplain  of  the  prison. 
That  priest  was  not  lacking  in  the  peculiar  talent  re- 
quired to  induce  the  prisoners  to  listen  to  him;  he 
defied,  as  in  duty  bound,  Tascheron's  passionate 
outbreaks,  he  tried  to  interject  a  few  words  amid 
the  tempests  of  that  powerful  nature  in  a  state  of 
convulsion.  But  the  conflict  of  that  spiritual  father- 
hood with  the  whirlwind  of  those  unchained  passions 
crushed  and  wearied  poor  Abbe  Pascal. 

"  That  man  has  found  his  paradise  here  on  earth," 
said  the  old  man,  in  an  undertone. 

Little  Madame  des  Vanneaulx  consulted  her  friends 
as  to  whether  she  should  venture  to  approach  the 
criminal.  Monsieur  des  Vanneaulx  talked  of  a  com- 
promise. In  his  despair,  he  went  to  Monsieur  de 
Granville  to  propose  suing  for  the  pardon  of  his 
uncle's  assassin  if  he  would  restore  the  hundred 
thousand  francs.  The  avocat-general  replied  that 
the  king's  majesty  did  not  stoop  to  such  com- 
promises. Then  the  Des  Vanneaulx  turned  to 


94  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Tascheron's  advocate,  and  offered  him  ten  per  cent, 
of  the  amount  if  he  could  succeed  in  recovering  it. 
The  advocate  was  the  only  man  at  sight  of  whom 
Tascheron  did  not  fly  into  a  passion;  the  heirs 
authorized  him  to  offer  the  criminal  another  ten 
per  cent.,  which  he  could  use  for  the  benefit  of  his 
family.  Despite  the  incisions  which  those  beavers 
thus  made  in  their  inheritance,  and  despite  his 
eloquence,  the  advocate  could  obtain  no  concession 
from  his  client.  The  Des  Vanneaulx,  in  their  rage, 
cursed  and  anathematized  the  condemned  man. 

"  Not  only  is  he  an  assassin,  but  he  has  no  sense 
of  delicacy!"  cried  Des  Vanneaulx,  in  all  seriousness, 
ignorant  of  Fualdes's  famous  lament,  when  he  learned 
of  Abbe  Pascal's  non-success,  and  realized  that  all 
would  be  lost  by  the  probable  dismissal  of  the  appeal. 
"What  good  will  our  fortune  do  him  where  he  is 
going?  As  for  a  murder,  one  can  conceive  of  that, 
but  useless  robbery  is  inconceivable.  What  times 
we  live  in,  that  society  people  should  be  interested 
in  such  a  cut-throat!  There's  nothing  in  his  favor." 

"  He's  anything  but  honorable,"  said  Madame  des 
Vanneaulx. 

"  But  suppose  the  restitution  would  compromise 
his  dear  friend?"  said  an  old  maid. 

"We  would  keep  the  secret!"  cried  Monsieur  des 
Vanneaulx. 

"  You  would  be  guilty  of  concealing  crime,"  sug- 
gested a  lawyer. 

"  Oh!  the  beggar!"  was  Monsieur  des  Vanneaulx's 
conclusion. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  95 

One  of  the  women  of  Madame  Graslin's  circle, 
who  laughingly  described  to  her  the  perplexities  of 
the  Des  Vanneaulx,  a  very  bright  woman,  one  of 
those  who  dream  of  the  ideally  beautiful  and  wish 
everything  to  be  complete,  regretted  the  frantic  con- 
duct of  the  condemned  man;  she  would  have  liked 
him  to  be  cold  and  calm  and  dignified. 

"Don't  you  see,"  Veronique  said  to  her,  "that 
in  that  way  he  avoids  and  baffles  all  attempts  to 
change  his  determination?  He  has  become  a  wild 
beast  for  that  purpose." 

"  Besides,  he's  not  a  man  of  refinement,"  rejoined 
the  exiled  Parisian,  "  he's  a  workman." 

"A  man  of  refinement  would  soon  have  made 
an  end  of  the  unknown  woman!"  replied  Madame 
Graslin. 

These  events,  jumbled  together  and  distorted  in 
salons  and  domestic  circles,  commented  on  in  a  thou- 
sand ways,  and  dissected  by  the  most  skilful  tongues 
in  the  town,  imparted  a  cruel  interest  to  the  execu- 
tion of  the  criminal,  whose  appeal  was  dismissed  by 
the  supreme  court  two  months  later.  What  would  be 
the  murderer's  attitude  in  his  last  moments,  boasting 
as  he  did  that  he  would  make  the  execution  impos- 
sible by  fighting  desperately?  Would  he  speak? 
would  he  break  his  word?  who  would  win  the  bet? 
Will  you  go?  will  you  not  go?  how  is  one  to  go? 
The  location  of  the  place  of  execution,  which  spares 
the  culprit  the  agony  of  a  long  ride,  restricts  the 
number  of  fashionable  spectators  at  Limoges.  The 
Palais  de  Justice,  where  the  prison  is,  stands  at  the 


96  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

corner  of  Rue  du  Palais  and  Rue  du  Pont-Herisson. 
Rue  du  Palais  is  continued  in  a  straight  line  by  a 
short  street,  Rue  de  Monte-a-Regret,  which  leads  to 
Place  d'Aine  or  des  Arenes,  where  executions  take 
place,  to  which  circumstance  the  square  doubtless 
owes  its  name.  Thus  the  distance  is  short,  conse- 
quently there  are  few  houses  and  few  windows. 
What  man  or  woman  of  the  upper  class  would  care  to 
mix  with  the  vulgar  crowd  who  would  fill  the  square? 
But  that  execution,  expected  from  day  to  day,  was 
postponed  from  day  to  day,  to  the  great  surprise  of 
the  town;  and  for  this  reason.  The  pious  resigna- 
tion of  great  criminals  on  their  way  to  their  death 
is  one  of  the  triumphs  which  the  Church  reserves-to 
itself,  and  which  rarely  fail  of  their  effect  upon  the 
common  herd;  the  repentance  of  men  condemned  to 
death  attests  so  strongly  the  power  of  religious  ideas 
that,  aside  from  any  Christian  motive,  although  that 
should  be  the  principal  aim  of  the  Church,  the  clergy 
are  naturally  heart-broken  by  failure  on  these  con- 
spicuous occasions.  In  July,  1829,  matters  were 
aggravated  by  party  spirit,  which  envenomed  the 
most  trivial  details  of  political  life.  The  liberal 
party  rejoiced  to  observe  the  failure  on  such  a  public 
occasion  of  the  "priest  party,"  an  expression  in- 
vented by  Montlosier,  a  royalist  who  had  gone  over 
to  the  constitutionalists  and  was  drawn  on  by  them 
further  than  he  intended.  Parties,  en  masse,  commit 
infamous  deeds  which  would  cover  a  man  with  oblo- 
quy; and  so,  when  a  man  personifies  them  all  in  the 
eyes  of  the  mob,  he  becomes  Robespierre,  Jeffries, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  97 

Laubardemont,  expiatory  altars,  so  to  speak,  upon 
which  all  their  accomplices  secretly  hang  ex-votos. 
By  agreement  with  the  bishop's  palace,  the  prose- 
cuting office  delayed  the  execution,  in  the  hope  of 
finding  out  those  circumstances  of  the  crime  which 
were  as  yet  unknown,  no  less  than  of  allowing 
religion  to  triumph. 

However,  the  power  of  the  prosecuting  attorney 
in  that  respect  was  not  unlimited,  and  the  sentence 
must  be  executed  sooner  or  later.  The  same  lib- 
erals who,  in  a  spirit  of  opposition,  looked  upon 
Tascheron  as  innocent,  and  who  had  tried  to  nullify 
the  sentence  of  the  law,  murmured  now  because 
that  sentence  was  not  executed.  Opposition,  when 
it  is  systematic,  is  guilty  of  such  contradictions;  for, 
from  its  standpoint,  it  is  not  a  question  of  right  or 
wrong,  but  of  always  railing  at  the  government. 
Thus,  early  in  August,  the  prosecution's  hand  was 
forced  by  that  clamor,  often  utterly  senseless,  called 
public  opinion.  The  date  of  the  execution  was  an- 
nounced. In  that  emergency,  Abbe  Dutheil  took  it 
upon  himself  to  suggest  to  the  bishop  one  last  ex- 
pedient, the  success  of  which  was  to  introduce  in 
this  judicial  drama  the  extraordinary  individual  who 
serves  to  connect  all  the  others,  who  is  the  grandest 
of  all  the  figures  in  this  Scene,  and  who  was  des- 
tined to  lead  Madame  Graslin,  by  paths  familiar  to 
Providence,  to  the  stage  where  her  virtues  shone 
forth  with  the  greatest  brilliancy,  where  she  showed 
herself  a  sublime  benefactress  and  an  angelic  Chris- 
tian woman. 

7 


98  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

The  episcopal  palace  at  Limoges  is  situated  on 
a  hill  beside  the  Vienne,  and  its  gardens,  which 
are  supported  by  strong  walls  surrounded  by  bal- 
ustrades, descend  in  terraces,  following  the  natural 
fall  of  the  ground.  The  hill  is  so  high  that  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Etienne,  on  the  other  bank,  seems 
to  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  last  terrace.  From  there 
the  river  unfolds  itself,  either  in  its  length  or  in 
its  width,  according  to  the  direction  in  which  you 
walk,  and  always  in  the  midst  of  a  rich  pano- 
rama. Toward  the  west,  beyond  the  gardens  of 
the  palace,  the  Vienne  rushes  upon  the  town  in 
a  graceful  curve,  skirting  Faubourg  Saint-Martial. 
Beyond  that  faubourg,  a  short  distance,  is  a  pretty 
country-house  called  Le  Cluzeau,  whose  shrubbery 
can  be  seen  from  the  terraces  nearest  the  river,  and, 
by  an  effect  of  perspective,  blends  with  the  steeples 
of  the  faubourg.  Opposite  Le  Cluzeau  is  that 
sloping  islet,  covered  with  a  growth  of  poplars, 
which  Veronique  in  her  early  youth  called  He  de 
France.  To  the,  east,  in  the  distance,  lie  hills  in 
the  shape  of  an  amphitheatre.  The  loveliness  of  the 
location  and  the  noble  simplicity  of  the  building 
make  that  palace  the  most  notable  monument  in  the 
town,  where  the  buildings  do  not  arouse  admiration 
either  by  choice  of  materials  or  by  architectural 
merit. 

Having  long  been  familiar  with  the  views  which 
commend  those  gardens  to  persons  who  travel  in 
quest  of  the  picturesque,  Abbe  Dutheil,  who  was 
accompanied  by  Monsieur  de  Grancour,  descended 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  99 

from  terrace  to  terrace,  heedless  of  the  bright  red, 
the  orange,  and  violet  tints  which  the  setting  sun 
cast  upon  the  old  walls  and  the  balustrades,  upon 
the  houses  in  the  faubourg,  and  the  waters  of  the 
river.  He  was  in  search  of  the  bishop,  who  was 
seated  at  that  moment  in  the  corner  of  the  lowest  ter- 
race under  an  arbor  of  vines,  where  he  had  come  to 
eat  his  dessert,  yielding  to  the  charm  of  the  evening. 
The  poplars  on  the  island  seemed  to  cleave  the 
waters  with  the  lengthened  shadows  of  their 
branches,  already  turning  yellow,  to  which  the  sun 
gave  the  appearance  of  a  mass  of  golden  foliage. 
The  beams  of  the  setting  sun,  reflected  diversely 
by  the  masses  of  varying  greens,  produced  a  mag- 
nificent combination  of  melancholy  tones.  In  the 
depths  of  the  valley  the  Vienne  shivered  in  the 
faint  evening  breeze,  like  a  sheet  of  gold-spangled 
bubbles,  bringing  out  in  relief  the  flat  brown  surfaces 
presented  by  the  roofs  of  Faubourg  Saint-Etienne. 
The  steeples  and  roofs  of  Faubourg  Saint-Martial, 
bathed  in  light,  blended  with  the  vines  on  the  trel- 
lises. The  gentle  murmur  of  a  provincial  town, 
half  hidden  in  the  curve  of  the  river,  the  soft- 
ness of  the  air,  all  contributed  to  plunge  the  prel- 
ate into  the  tranquil  frame  of  mind  insisted  upon  by 
all  authors  who  have  written  upon  the  digestion; 
his  eyes  were  fixed  mechanically  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  at  the  spot  where  the  long  shadows  of 
the  poplars  on  the  island  touched,  on  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Etienne  shore,  the  walls  of  the  field  in  which 
the  double  murder  of  old  Pingret  and  his  servant 


100  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

had  been  committed;  but  when  his  petty,  momen- 
tary felicity  was  interrupted  by  the  difficulties  of 
which  his  vicars-general  reminded  him,  his  looks 
were  filled  with  impenetrable  thoughts.  The  two 
priests  attributed  his  distraction  to  ennui,  whereas, 
on  the  contrary,  the  prelate  saw  in  the  sands  of  the 
Vienne  the  solution  of  the  enigma  which  the  Des 
Vanneaulx  and  the  officers  of  the  law  were  then 
seeking. 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Abbede  Grancour,  approach- 
ing the  bishop,  "  nothmg  is  of  any  avail,  we  shall 
have  the  sorrow  of  seeing  that  unhappy  Tascheron 
die  unshriven;  he  will  utter  the  most  horrible  im- 
precations against  religion,  he  will  overwhelm  poor 
Abbe  Pascal  with  insults,  he  will  spit  upon  the  cru- 
cifix, he  will  deny  everything,  even  hell." 

"  He  will  terrify  the  people,"  said  Abbe  Dutheil. 
"  That  great  scandal  and  the  horror  he  will  -inspire 
will  cover  our  defeat  and  our  helplessness.  And 
so,  as  I  said  to  Monsieur  de  Grancour,  on  our  way 
hither,  this  spectacle  will  send  more  than  one  sinner 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Church." 

Disturbed  by  these  words,  the  bishop  placed  the 
bunch  of  grapes  at  which  he  was  picking  upon  a 
rustic  wooden  table,  and  wiped  his  fingers,  motion- 
ing to  his  two  vicars-general  to  be  seated. 

"  Abbe  Pascal  is  ill,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"He  is  ill  as  a  result  of  his  last  scene  at  the 
prison,"  said  Abbe  de  Grancour.  "Except  for  his 
indisposition,  we  should  have  brought  him  to  ex- 
plain the  difficulties  which  make  it  impossible  to  try 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  IOI 

any  of  the  expedients  which  monseigneur  ordered  us 
to  try." 

"  The  condemned  man  sings  obscene  songs  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  as  soon  as  he  sees  one  of  us,  and 
drowns  the  words  we  try  to  say  to  him,"  said  a 
young  priest  who  was  seated  near  the  bishop. 

This  young  man,  who  had  a  charming  face,  rested 
his  right  elbow  on  the  table,  his  white  hand  played 
carelessly  with  the  bunches  of  grapes  from  which  he 
selected  the  ripest  fruit  with  the  ease  and  familiarity 
of  a  member  of  the  household  or  a  favorite.  He  was 
the  younger  brother  of  the  Comte  de  Rastignac,  at- 
tached by  family  ties  and  by  ties  of  affection  to  the 
Bishop  of  Limoges,  and  was  at  once  a  member  of  his 
household  and  his  favorite.  In  consideration  of  the 
pecuniary  reasons  which  caused  the  young  man  to 
enter  the  Church,  the  bishop  had  taken  him  as  his 
private  secretary,  pending  an  opportunity  for  promo- 
tion. Abbe  Gabriel  bore  a  name  which  marked  him 
out  for  the  most  exalted  dignities  of  the  Church. 

"  Have  you  been  there,  my  son?"  said  the  bishop. 

"Yes,  monseigneur;  as  soon  as  I  appeared,  the 
wretch  poured  forth  the  most  disgusting  insults  to 
you  and  myself;  he  acted  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
it  impossible  for  a  priest  to  remain  in  his  presence. 
Will  monseigneur  allow  me  to  give  him  some  advice?" 

"  Let  us  listen  to  the  wisdom  which  God  some- 
times puts  in  the  mouths  of  children,"  said  the 
bishop,  with  a  smile. 

"  Did  He  not  make  Balaam's  ass  speak?"  replied 
the  young  Abbe  de  Rastignac,  quickly. 


102  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"According  to  some  commentators,  she  had  none 
too  clear  an  idea  of  what  she  was  saying,"  laughed 
the  bishop. 

The  two  vicars-general  smiled;  in  the  first  place, 
the  jest  was  monseigneur's;  and  then  it  was  mildly 
sarcastic  at  the  expense  of  the  young  abbe,  of  whom 
the  dignitaries  and  ambitious  priests  who  surrounded 
the  prelate  were  jealous. 

"  My  advice,"  said  the  young  abbe,  "  would  be  to 
request  Monsieur  de  Granville  to  postpone  the  exe- 
cution once  more.  When  the  condemned  man  knows 
that  he  owes  a  reprieve  for  several  days  to  our  inter- 
cession, perhaps  he  will  make  a  pretence  of  listening 
to  us,  and  if  he  once  listens  to  us — " 

"  He  will  persist  in  his  conduct,  when  he  sees  the 
advantages  it  affords  him,"  said  the  bishop,  inter- 
rupting his  favorite. — "  Messieurs,"  he  continued, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  "does  the  town  know  of 
these  details?" 

"Where  is  the  house  in  which  they  are  not  dis- 
cussed?" said  Abbe  de  Grancour.  "The  state  to 
which  his  last  effort  has  brought  good  Abbe  Pascal 
is  the  one  subject  of  conversation  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

"When  is  Tascheron  to  be  executed?"  inquired 
the  bishop. 

"To-morrow,  market-day,"  replied  Monsieur  de 
Grancour. 

"Messieurs,  religion  must  never  accept  the  under- 
hand!" cried  the  bishop.  "The  more  public  atten- 
tion is  aroused  by  this  affair,  the  more  I  desire  to 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  103 

obtain  a  notorious  triumph.  The  Church  is  face 
to  face  with  a  difficult  crisis.  We  are  compelled  to 
perform  miracles  in  a  manufacturing  town,  where 
the  spirit  of  sedition  against  religious  and  mon- 
archical doctrines  has  put  forth  deep  roots,  where  the 
idea  of  close  scrutiny,  born  of  Protestantism  and 
to-day  known  as  Liberalism,  with  liberty  to  adopt 
another  name  to-morrow,  extends  to  everything. 
Go,  messieurs,  to  Monsieur  de  Granville;  he  is  with 
us;  tell  him  that  we  request  a  reprieve  for  a  few 
days.  I  will  go  to  see  this  unhappy  man." 

"You,  monseigneur!"  said  Abbe  de  Rastignac. 
"  If  you  fail,  will  you  not  have  imperilled  too  many 
things?  You  should  not  go  unless  you  are  sure  of 
success." 

"  If  monseigneur  will  permit  me  to  give  my 
opinion,"  said  Abbe  Dutheil,  "  I  think  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  suggest  a  method  of  assuring  the  triumph 
of  the  religion  in  this  deplorable  affair." 

The  prelate  replied  with  a  somewhat  cold  sign  of 
assent,  which  showed  how  little  credit  the  vicar- 
general  had  with  him. 

"  If  any  man  can  exert  authority  over  that  rebel- 
lious soul  and  bring  it  back  to  God,"  continued  Abbe 
Dutheil,  "that  man  is  the  cure  of  the  village  where 
he  was  born,  Monsieur  Bonnet." 

"  One  of  your  proteges,"  observed  the  bishop. 

"  Monseigneur,  Monsieur  le  Cure  Bonnet  is  one  of 
those  men  who  protect  themselves,  both  by  their 
militant  virtues  and  by  their  works  in  furtherance  of 
the  gospel." 


104  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

That  reply,  so  modest  and  so  simple,  was  greeted 
by  a  silence  that  would  have  embarrassed  any  other 
than  Abbe  Dutheil;  it  spoke  of  unappreciated  people, 
and  the  three  priests  chose  to  see  in  it  one  of  those 
humble  but  irreproachable,  skilfully  polished  sar- 
casms characteristic  of  ecclesiastics,  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  observe  the  strictest  rules,  while  saying 
what  they  wish  to  say.  But  it  was  nothing  of  the 
sort;  Abbe  Dutheil  never  thought  of  himself. 

"  I  have  heard  of  Saint  Aristides  too  long,"  replied 
the  bishop,  with  a  smile.  "  If  I  should  leave  that 
light  under  a  bushel,  it  would  be  either  injustice  or 
prejudice  on  my  part.  Your  liberals  extol  your  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  as  if  he  belonged  to  their  party,  and  I 
wish  to  pass  judgment  myself  upon  this  rural  apostle. 
Go  to  the  procureur-general,  messieurs,  and  ask  in 
my  name  for  a  reprieve;  I  will  await  his  reply  before 
sending  our  dear  Abbe  Gabriel  to  Montegnac,  whence 
he  will  bring  this  holy  man  to  us.  We  will  place  His 
Beatitude  in  a  position  to  perform  miracles." 

As  he  listened  to  that  harangue  of  the  nobleman 
prelate,  Abbe  Dutheil  blushed;  but  he  did  not  choose 
to  take  umbrage  at  what  was  offensive  to  himself  in 
his  words.  The  two  vicars-general  saluted  in  silence, 
and  left  the  bishop  with  his  favorite. 

"  The  secrets  of  the  confession  which  we  seek  to 
obtain  are,  doubtless,  buried  there,"  said  the  bishop 
to  his  young  abbe,  pointing  to  the  shadows  of  the 
poplars  where  they  fell  upon  an  isolated  house  be- 
tween the  islet  and  Faubourg  Saint-Etienne. 

"I  have  always  thought  so,"  replied   Gabriel. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  105 

"  I  am  not  a  magistrate,  I  do  not  choose  to  be  a 
spy;  but,  if  I  had  been  a  magistrate,  I  would  have 
learned  the  name  of  the  woman  who  trembles  at 
every  sound,  at  every  word,  and  whose  brow,  never- 
theless, must  remain  calm  and  untroubled  on  pain  of 
accompanying  the  condemned  man  to  the  scaffold. 
But  she  has  nothing  to  fear;  I  have  seen  the  man, 
he  will  carry  the  secret  of  his  fervent  love  with  him 
into  the  darkness." 

"  Little  fox!"  said  the  bishop,  pulling  the  secre- 
tary's ear,  and  pointing  to  a  spot  between  the  island 
and  Faubourg  Saint-Etienne,  upon  which  the  last  red 
flame  of  the  setting  sun  shone  brightly,  and  upon 
which  the  young  priest's  eyes  were  fixed.  "  The 
law  should  have  searched  there,  eh?" 

"  I  went  to  see  the  criminal  to  try  the  effect  of  my 
suspicions  upon  him;  but  he  is  guarded  by  spies;  by 
speaking  aloud,  I  should  have  compromised  the  per- 
son for  whom  he  is  dying." 

"Let  us  hold  our  peace,"  said  the  bishop,  "we 
are  not  the  officers  of  man's  law.  One  head  is 
enough.  Besides,  this  secret  will  come  to  the 
Church  sooner  or  later." 

The  perspicacity  which  the  habit  of  meditation 
imparts  to  priests  is  far  superior  to  that  of  prose- 
cuting attorneys  and  police.  By  dint  of  contem- 
plating the  scene  of  the  crime  from  the  summit  of 
their  terraces,  the  prelate  and  his  secretary  had,  in 
truth,  at  last  discovered  details  still  unknown, 
despite  the  investigations  of  the  examining  magis- 
trate and  the  trial  in  the  Assize  court. 


106  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Monsieur  de  Granville  was  playing  whist  at 
Madame  Graslin's,  and  they  had  to  await  his  re- 
turn; his  decision  was  not  known  at  the  bishop's 
palace  until  toward  midnight.  Abbe  Gabriel,  to 
whom  the  bishop  lent  his  carriage,  started  for  Mon- 
tegnac  about  two  in  the  morning.  That  village, 
about  nine  leagues  from  Limoges,  lies  in  that  part 
of  the  Limousin  which  skirts  the  mountains  of  La 
Corr£ze  and  adjoins  La  Creuse.  The  young  abbe 
left  Limoges  in  the  grasp  of  all  the  passions  aroused 
by  the  spectacle  promised  for  the  following  day, 
which  was,  however,  to  disappoint  it  once  more. 


Ill 


THE  CURE  OF  MONTEGNAC 

Priests  and  devotees  have  a  tendency  to  observe 
the  strictest  legal  rules  in  the  matter  of  expenditure. 
Is  it  poverty?  Is  it  a  result  of  the  selfishness  to 
which  their  isolation  condemns  them  and  which  facil- 
itates the  inclination  of  mankind  to  avarice?  Is  it  a 
result  of  the  parsimony  compelled  by  the  exercise  of 
charity?  Each  case  presents  a  different  explana- 
tion. Concealed  often  beneath  an  attractive  amia- 
bility, often,  too,  entirely  sincere,  this  repugnance 
to  putting  the  hand  in  the  pocket  is  especially  notice- 
able in  travelling.  Gabriel  de  Rastignac,  the  pretti- 
est youth  whom  the  altars  had  seen  for  a  long  time 
bending  his  head  beneath  their  tabernacles,  gave 
only  thirty  sous  pourboire  to  the  postilions;  conse- 
quently, his  progress  was  slow.  Postilions  treat 
with  great  respect  the  bishops  who  only  double 
their  wages,  but  they  do  no  damage  to  the  episco- 
pal carriage  for  fear  of  incurring  disgrace.  Abbe 
Gabriel,  who  was  travelling  alone  for  the  first  time, 
said  mildly  at  every  station: 

"  Pray  drive  faster,  Messieurs  les  Postilions!" 

(107) 


108  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"We  don't  play  with  the  whip,"  replied  an 
old  postilion,  "  unless  passengers  play  with  their 
thumbs!" 

The  young  abbe  buried  himself  in  the  corner  of 
the  carriage,  unable  to  understand  that  reply.  As  a 
means  of  distraction,  he  studied  the  country  he  was 
passing  through,  and  he  walked  up  several  of  the 
hills  over  which  the  road  from  Bordeaux  to  Lyon 
winds. 

Five  leagues  from  Limoges,  the  sunny  sloping 
shores  of  the  Vienne,  and  the  pleasant  fields  of 
the  Limousin,  which  remind  one  of  Switzerland  in 
some  places,  especially  at  Saint-Leonard,  are  suc- 
ceeded by  a  desolate  and  depressing  region.  There 
are  vast,  untilled  fields,  and  plains  without  grass  or 
horses,  but  bordered  on  the  horizon  by  the  heights 
of  La  Correze.  Those  mountains  present  to  the 
traveller's  eye  neither  the  perpendicular  cliffs  of 
the  Alps  and  their  sublime  rents  and  fissures,  nor 
the  gorges,  warm  with  color,  and  desolate  peaks 
of  the  Apennines,  nor  the  grandeur  of  the  Pyre- 
nees; their  undulations,  due  to  the  movement  of  the 
waters,  indicate  the  subsidence  of  the  great  catas- 
trophe, and  the  tranquillity  with  which  the  liquid 
masses  withdrew.  This  aspect  of  the  country,  com- 
mon to  most  of  the  hilly  regions  in  France,  has  con- 
tributed, perhaps,  as  much  as  the  climate  to  earn  for 
it  the  epithet  of  mild,  which  Europe  has  confirmed. 
If  that  contrast  between  the  uninteresting  landscapes 
of  the  Limousin  and  those  of  La  Marche  and  Auvergne 
presents  to  the  thinker  and  the  poet  who  pass  that 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  109 

way  images  of  the  infinite,  the  terror  of  some  minds; 
if  it  inclines  to  revive  the  woman  who  is  suffering 
from  ennui  in  her  carriage, — to  the  native  that  region 
is  wild  and  rough  and  devoid  of  resource.  The  soil  of 
those  vast  grayish  plains  is  ungrateful.  The  prox- 
imity of  a  capital  alone  could  duplicate  the  miracle 
that  has  been  wrought  in  Brie  during  the  past  two 
centuries.  But  there  are  none  of  those  great  estates 
which  sometimes  give  life  to  those  deserts  where 
the  husbandman  sees  only  waste  places,  where 
civilization  wrings  its  hands,  where  the  tourist  finds 
neither  inns  nor  that  which  most  delights  him,  the 
picturesque.  Elevated  minds  do  not  dislike  those 
moors,  essential  shadows  in  the  vast  tableau  of 
nature.  Within  a  short  time,  Cooper,  that  melan- 
choly genius,  has  magnificently  developed  the  poetic 
character  of  these  solitudes,  in  The  Prairie.  These 
tracts,  neglected  by  plant  life,  covered  with  un- 
fruitful mineral  rubbish,  with  smooth  stones  and 
dead  earth,  are  challenges  to  civilization.  France 
should  accept  the  solution  of  these  difficulties  as  the 
English  accept  those  presented  by  Scotland,  where 
their  patient,  their  heroic  toil  has  transformed  the 
barrenest  moors  into  productive  farms.  If  left  in 
their  primitive  wild  state,  these  social  fallow-lands 
engender  discouragement,  sloth,  weakness  from  lack 
of  sustenance,  and  crime  when  want  speaks  too 
loud. 

These  few  words  tell  the  past  history  of  Montegnac. 
What  was  to  be  done  with  a  vast  untilled  field, 
neglected  by  the  government,  abandoned  by  the 


110  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

nobility,  cursed  by  the  manufacturing  class?  Make 
war  on  society,  which  does  not  understand  its 
duties!  And  so  the  people  of  Montegnac  formerly 
subsisted  by  theft  and  murder,  as  the  Scotch  of  the 
Highlands  used  to  do.  From  the  very  aspect  of  the 
country,  the  thinking  man  can  readily  imagine  why, 
twenty  years  earlier,  the  people  of  that  village  were 
at  war  with  society.  That  great  plateau,  bounded 
on  one  side  by  the  valley  of  the  Vienne,  on  the 
other  by  the  pretty  dales  of  La  Marche  and  by 
Auvergne,  and  isolated  by  the  mountains  of  La 
Correze,  resembles,  agriculture  aside,  the  plateau  of 
La  Beauce,  which  separates  the  basin  of  the  Loire 
from  the  basin  of  the  Seine,  or  those  of  Touraine 
and  Berri  and  so  many  others  which  are  like  facets 
on  the  surface  of  France  and  numerous  enough  to 
occupy  the  thoughts  of  the  greatest  administrators. 
It  is  a  most  extraordinary  thing  that  people  should 
complain  of  the  constant  upward  movement  of  the 
masses  of  the  people  toward  the  higher  social  levels, 
and  that  a  government  should  discover  no  remedy 
for  it  in  a  country  where  statistics  tell  us  that  sev- 
eral millions  of  acres  of  land  are  lying  fallow,  on 
certain  portions  of  which,  as  in  Berri,  for  instance, 
there  are  seven  or  eight  feet  of  vegetable  mould! 
Many  of  these  tracts,  which  would  feed  whole  vil- 
lages, which  would  produce  immense  crops,  belong 
to  obstinate  communes,  which  refuse  to  sell  them  to 
speculators  in  order  to  retain  the  right  to  pasture  a 
few  hundred  cows  there.  Upon  all  this  unproduc- 
tive territory  is  written  the  word  Incapacity.  Every 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  III 

soil  has  some  special  sort  of  fertility.  Not  arms 
nor  goodwill  are  lacking,  but  administrative  con- 
science and  talent.  In  France,  up  to  the  present 
time,  these  plateaus  have  been  sacrificed  to  the 
valleys;  the  government  has  given  its  assistance, 
has  expended  its  labors  there,  where  its  protection 
was  not  needed.  Most  of  these  unfortunate  soli- 
tudes lack  water,  the  first  principle  of  all  production. 
The  mists  which  might  fertilize  that  dead,  gray  soil 
by  discharging  their  oxides  upon  it,  sweep  swiftly 
by,  borne  onward  by  the  wind,  because  of  the 
absence  of  trees  which,  everywhere  else,  check 
their  course  and  pump  from  them  their  nutritious 
substance.  In  many  places  of  this  sort,  to  plant 
would  be  like  preaching  the  gospel. 

Separated  from  the  nearest  large  town  by  a  dis- 
tance which  was  too  great  for  poor  folk  to  travel, 
and  which  placed  a  desert  between  it  and  them; 
having  no  outlet  for  their  produce  if  they  had  pro- 
duced anything;  planted  beside  an  unexploited  forest, 
which  provided  them  with  wood  and  the  uncertain 
sustenance  of  poaching, — the  natives  were  hard 
pressed  by  hunger  in  winter.  As  the  soil  was  not 
suited  to  the  production  of  grain,  the  unfortunate 
creatures  had  neither  cattle  nor  farming-tools;  they 
lived  on  chestnuts.  Those  persons  who,  while 
taking  a  general  view,  in  a  museum,  of  the  zoolog- 
ical products  of  the  world,  have  experienced  the 
indescribable  melancholy  caused  by  the  sight  of 
the  brown  tones  which  characterize  the  products 
of  Europe,  will  understand  perhaps  how  great  an 


112  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

influence  the  sight  of  those  grizzly  plains  is  likely  to 
exert  upon  one's  mental  condition,  by  virtue  of  the 
depressing  suggestion  of  barrenness  which  they  con- 
stantly present.  There  is  neither  freshness  nor 
shade  nor  contrast,  none  of  the  ideas,  none  of  the 
sights  which  rejoice  the  heart.  There  one  would 
embrace  a  poor  stunted  apple-tree  as  one  would  a 
friend. 

A  departmental  road,  recently  built,  diverged  from 
the  main  road  and  crossed  this  plateau.  A  few  leagues 
away,  at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  as  its  name  indicated,  lay 
Montegnac,  the  chief  town  of  a  canton  at  which 
one  of  the  arrondissements  of  Haute-Vienne  begin. 
The  hill  belongs  to  Montegnac,  which  includes  moun- 
tain and  plain  within  its  limits.  The  commune  is  a 
miniature  Scotland,  with  its  lowlands  and  highlands. 
Behind  the  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  lies  the  village, 
and  distant  about  a  league,  rises  the  first  peak  of  the 
Correze  chain.  In  the  interval  lies  the  great  forest, 
called  Montegnac  forest,  which  begins  on  the  hill  of 
Montegnac,  descends  it,  fills  the  valleys  and  barren 
hillsides,  stripped  bare  in  spots,  climbs  the  mountain 
and  extends  to  the  Aubusson  road  by  a  tongue  of 
woodland  which  comes  to  an  end  on  a  steep  bank 
beside  that  road.  The  bank  overlooks  a  gorge 
through  which  runs  the  high-road  from  Bordeaux  to 
Lyon.  Carriages,  travellers,  and  pedestrians  had 
often  been  stopped  in  the  depths  of  that  dangerous 
gorge  by  robbers,  whose  depredations  went  unpun- 
ished: the  location  favored  their  escape;  they  made 
their  way,  by  hidden  paths,  to  the  inaccessible  parts 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  113 

of  the  forest.  Such  a  region  offered  little  encourage- 
ment to  the  investigations  of  the  officers  of  the  law. 
No  one  passed  that  way.  Without  circulation,  there 
can  be  neither  commerce,  nor  manufactures,  nor 
exchange  of  ideas,  nor  wealth  of  any  sort;  the  mar- 
vellous physical  achievements  of  civilization  are 
always  the  result  of  an  application  of  primitive 
ideas.  Thought  is  always  the  point  of  departure 
and  the  point  of  arrival  of  every  society.  The 
history  of  Montegnac  affords  a  proof  of  that  axiom  of 
social  science.  When  the  government  was  able  to 
give  its  attention  to  the  urgent,  material  needs  of 
the  district,  it  felled  the  tongue  of  forest,  and  sta- 
tioned there  a  detachment  of  gendarmes,  who  es- 
corted vehicles  and  travellers  over  the  two  stages; 
but,  to  the  shame  of  the  gendarmerie,  it  was  the 
word  and  not  the  sword,  Bonnet  the  cure  and  not 
Brigadier  Chervin,  who  won  that  civil  battle  by 
changing  the  moral  character  of  the  people.  That 
priest,  impelled  by  a  religious  affection  for  that  im- 
poverished country-side,  tried  to  regenerate  it  and 
accomplished  his  object. 

After  travelling  about  an  hour  across  those  bare 
plains,  alternately  stony  and  dusty,  where  the  par- 
tridges went  their  way  undisturbed  in  flocks,  making 
the  familiar  dull  and  heavy  whirr  with  their  wings, 
as  they  rose  at  the  approach  of  the  carriage,  Abbe 
Gabriel,  like  all  travellers  who  have  taken  that 
journey,  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  as  he  caught  sight 
of  the  roofs  of  the  village.  At  the  entrance  to  Mon- 
tegnac is  one  of  those  curious  relay  stations  which 
8 


114  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

are  seen  only  in  France.  Its  sign  consists  of  an  oak 
board  whereon  some  ambitious  postilion  has  written 
the  words  Pauste  o  chevos — Paste  a  chevaux — in  very 
black  ink,  and  nailed  it  with  four  nails  over  the  door  of 
a  wretched  stable  in  which  there  is  no  horse.  The 
door,  which  is  almost  always  open,  has  for  a  thresh- 
old a  plank  set  on  its  edge  to  keep  the  rain-water 
from  flooding  the  floor  of  the  stable,  which  is  lower 
than  the  road.  The  despondent  traveller  spies 
mildewed,  worn-out,  mended  harnesses,  ready  to 
give  way  at  the  first  pull  of  the  horses.  The  horses 
are  ploughing  or  in  the  hayfield,  always  somewhere 
else  than  in  the  stable.  If  they  do  happen  to  be  in 
the  stable,  they  are  feeding;  if  they  have  had  their 
feed,  the  postilion  is  at  his  aunt's  or  his  cousin's;  he 
is  putting  in  hay  or  he  is  asleep;  no  one  knows 
where  he  is,  you  must  wait  until  someone  has 
hunted  him  up,  and  he  does  not  come  until  he  has 
finished  what  he  is  doing;  when  he  finally  arrives, 
an  interminable  time  passes  before  he  has  found  his 
jacket  or  his  whip,  or  harnessed  his  horses.  A 
stout,  good-humored  woman,  standing  on  the  steps 
of  the  house,  is  more  annoyed  than  the  traveller, 
and,  to  prevent  him  from  giving  way  to  his  temper, 
moves  about  more  actively  than  the  horses  will  ever 
do.  She  is  the  postmistress,  whose  husband  is  at 
work  in  the  fields. 

Monseigneur's  favorite  left  his  carriage  in  front 
of  a  stable  of  that  description,  the  walls  of  which 
resembled  a  map,  while  its  thatched  roof,  blossom- 
ing like  a  flower-bed,  sagged  under  the  weight  of 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  115 

vegetation  upon  it.  After  requesting  the  mistress 
to  make  everything  ready  for  his  departure,  which 
would  take  place  in  an  hour,  he  inquired  the  way  to 
the  rectory;  the  good  woman  pointed  to  a  lane  be- 
tween two  houses,  which  led  to  the  church,  and  said 
that  the  rectory  was  close  by. 

While  the  young  abbe  climbed  the  stony  path, 
enclosed  by  hedges,  the  postmistress  questioned 
the  postilion.  All  the  way  from  Limoges,  each 
postilion,  on  arriving  at  a  relay  station,  had  told  his 
confrere  who  was  to  continue  the  journey,  of  the 
conjectures  afloat  at  the  bishop's  palace,  as  promul- 
gated by  the  postilion  from  the  capital.  So  that, 
while  the  people  at  Limoges  were  leaving  their  beds 
and  talking  about  the  impending  execution  of  Pere 
Pingret's  assassin,  the  country  people  all  along  the 
road  told  of  the  innocent  man's  pardon,  obtained  by 
the  bishop,  and  chattered  about  the  alleged  errors  of 
human  justice.  If  Jean-Francois  should  be  executed 
later,  perhaps  he  would  be  regarded  as  a  martyr. 

After  walking  a  few  steps  up  the  path,  reddened 
by  the  autumn  leaves  and  black  with  wild  rasp- 
berries and  plums,  Abbe  Gabriel  turned  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  instinctive  impulse  which  leads  us  all  to 
look  closely  at  places  which  we  visit  for  the  first 
time, — a  sort  of  inborn  physical  curiosity  which  we 
share  with  horses  and  dogs.  The  situation  of  Mon- 
tegnac  was  explained  to  him  by  several  streams 
which  ran  down  the  hill,  and  by  a  small  river 
skirted  by  the  departmental  road  which  connects 
the  village  with  the  prefecture.  Like  all  the  villages 


Il6  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

on  that  plateau,  Montegnac  is  built  of  earth  dried  in 
the  sun  and  made  into  blocks.  After  a  fire,  a  build- 
ing might  be  found  built  of  brick.  The  roofs  are 
of  thatch.  Everything  indicated  the  prevalence  of 
poverty.  Beside  the  road,  before  reaching  the  vil- 
lage, were  several  fields  of  buckwheat,  radishes, 
and  potatoes,  rescued  from  the  moor.  On  the 
slope  of  the  hill  he  descried  some  irrigated  fields,  in 
which  are  raised  the  famous  Limousin  horses,  said 
to  have  been  a  legacy  from  the  Arabs  when  they 
descended  from  the  Pyrenees  into  France,  to  fall, 
between  Poitiers  and  Tours,  under  the  battle-axes 
of  the  Franks  commanded  by  Charles  Martel.  The 
heights  had  a  withered  look.  Scorched,  reddish,  glis- 
tening spots  denoted  the  arid  land  where  the  chestnut 
flourishes.  The  water,  carefully  diverted  for  purposes 
of  irrigation,  gave  life  only  to  the  fields,  bordered 
by  chestnut-trees  and  surrounded  by  hedges,  where 
the  fine,  sweet  grass  grew,  short  and  sparse,  which 
produces  that  breed  of  fine-limbed,  delicate  horses, 
unable  to  endure  great  fatigue,  but  showy,  excellent 
for  use  in  the  district  in  which  they  are  born,  and 
likely  to  deteriorate  when  transplanted.  Some  mul- 
berry-trees, recently  imported,  indicated  a  purpose  to 
cultivate  the  silk-worm. 

Like  most  villages  the  world  over,  Montegnac  had 
but  a  single  street,  which  was  a  continuation  of  the 
departmental  road.  But  there  were  an  upper  and  a 
lower  Montegnac,  each  divided  by  lanes  running  into 
the  street  at  right  angles.  A  row  of  houses  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill  presented  the  lively  spectacle  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  117 

terraced  gardens;  to  reach  them  from  the  street  one 
must  ascend  several  steps;  some  of  the  flights  were 
of  earth,  others  of  loose  stones;  and  here  and  there 
the  scene  was  enlivened  by  old  women,  who  sat 
spinning  or  watching  children,  and  kept  up  a  conver- 
sation between  upper  and  lower  Montegnac,  speak- 
ing across  the  street,  ordinarily  perfectly  quiet,  and 
despatching  news  swiftly  from  one  end  of  the  village 
to  the  other.  The  gardens,  full  of  fruit-trees,  cab- 
bages, onions,  and  other  vegetables,  all  had  bee- 
hives along  their  terraces.  Then  there  was  another 
row  of  houses  with  gardens  overhanging  the  river, 
whose  course  was  marked  by  superb  juniper-trees, 
and  by  those  fruit-trees  that  love  damp  soil;  this 
last  row  was  parallel  to  the  other;  some  of  the 
houses,  like  the  post-house,  were  in  a  hollow,  and 
this  encouraged  the  establishment  of  the  weaving 
industry;  almost  all  of  them  were  shaded  by  wal- 
nuts, the  tree  of  rich  soil.  In  that  direction,  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  village  from  the  great  plain,  was 
a  house  larger  and  in  better  condition  than  the 
others,  and  around  it  was  a  group  of  houses  equally 
well  kept.  This  hamlet,  separated  from  the  village 
by  its  gardens,  was  called  LES  TASCHERONS,  a  name 
which  it  bears  to  this  day.  The  commune  was  a 
small  affair  in  itself,  but  it  included  some  thirty 
scattered  farms.  In  the  valley,  in  the  direction  of 
the  river,  were  thickets  like  those  of  La  Marche  and 
Berri,  indicating  the  course  of  small  streams  and 
drawing  a  line  of  green  fringe  around  the  commune, 
dropped  there  like  a  ship  in  mid-ocean. 


Il8  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

When  a  house,  an  estate,  a  village,  a  province, 
have  passed  from  a  deplorable  to  a  satisfactory  state, 
although  they  have  attained  neither  splendor  nor 
even  wealth,  the  new  life  seems  so  natural  to  the 
living  creatures  there,  that  the  spectator  can  never 
conceive  at  first  glance  the  tremendous  efforts,  infi- 
nite in  their  minuteness,  grand  in  their  persistence, 
the  toil  buried  in  the  foundations,  the  forgotten  labors 
upon  which  the  first  changes  rest.  So  it  was  that 
this  spectacle  did  not  seem  extraordinary  to  the 
young  abbe,  when  he  cast  an  all-embracing  glance 
upon  that  attractive  landscape.  He  knew  nothing 
of  the  condition  of  the  country  before  the  arrival  of 
the  cure  Bonnet.  He  walked  on  up  the  path  a  few 
steps,  and  soon  discovered,  some  five  or  six  hundred 
feet  above  the  gardens  of  the  houses  of  upper  Mon- 
tegnac,  the  church  and  the  rectory,  which  he  had 
seen  at  first  in  the  distance,  confusedly  mingled  with 
the  imposing  ruins  and  enveloped  by  the  climbing 
plants  of  the  old  chateau  of  Montegnac,  one  of  the 
residences  of  the  house  of  Navarreins  in  the  twelfth 
century.  The  rectory,  which  was  evidently  built 
originally  for  a  head-keeper  or  a  steward,  attracted 
attention  by  a  long,  high  terrace  planted  with  lindens, 
whence  the  eye  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole  sur- 
rounding country.  The  stairs  leading  to  this  terrace 
and  the  walls  that  supported  it  were  of  an  antiquity 
evidenced  by  the  ravages  of  time.  The  stones  of 
the  staircase,  displaced  by  the  imperceptible  but 
continuous  force  of  vegetation,  made  room  for  tall 
weeds  and  wild  plants.  The  shallow  moss  that 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  119 

clings  to  rocks  had  spread  its  dragon-green  carpet 
over  the  top  of  each  stair.  The  numerous  species 
of  pellitories,  the  camomile,  the  maiden-hair,  grew 
in  abundant  variegated  clumps  in  the  loopholes  in 
the  wall,  which  was  badly  cracked  notwithstanding 
its  thickness.  Botany  had  spread  there  the  loveliest 
carpet  of  delicate  ferns,  violet  snap-dragon  with 
golden  pistils,  blue  bugloss  and  brown  cryptogams, 
so  that  the  stone  seemed  to  be  a  mere  accessory  and 
appeared  through  that  fresh,  green  tapestry  only  at 
rare  intervals.  On  the  terrace  was  a  flower-garden, 
with  geometrical  figures  described  by  borders  of  box, 
and  overlooked  by  the  cure's  house,  above  which 
was  the  whitish  mass  of  the  cliff,  with  here  and 
there  a  sickly  tree,  drooping  like  a  bird's  tail-feathers. 
The  ruins  of  the  castle  overlooked  the  church  and  the 
house. 

This  rectory,  constructed  of  small  stones  and  mor- 
tar, had  one  floor  above  the  ground-floor,  surmounted 
by  a  vast  sloping  roof  with  two  gables,  beneath  which 
were  garret  chambers,  untenanted,  doubtless,  in  view 
of  the  dilapidated  condition  of  the  windows.  The 
ground-floor  consisted  of  two  rooms  separated  by  a 
corridor,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a  wooden  staircase 
giving  access  to  the  first  floor,  which  also  consisted 
of  two  rooms.  A  small  kitchen  adjoined  the  build- 
ing on  the  yard  side,  where  there  were  a  stable  and 
cow-shed,  utterly  deserted  and  useless.  The  kitchen 
garden  lay  between  the  house  and  the  church.  A 
half-ruined  gallery  led  from  the  rectory  to  the  sac- 
risty. When  the  young  abbe  saw  the  four  windows 


I2O  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

with  lead  sashes,  the  brown,  mossy  walls,  the  un- 
painted  door  split  like  a  bundle  of  matches, — far 
from  being  impressed  by  the  admirable  simplicity  of 
those  details,  by  the  graceful  beauty  of  the  vegeta- 
tion on  the  roof,  the  rotten  window-sills  and  the 
cracks  from  which  fantastic  climbing  plants  emerged, 
by  the  vines  with  their  spiral  tendrils  and  tiny 
bunches  of  grapes  peeping  in  through  the  windows 
as  if  to  suggest  joyous  thoughts,  he  was  very  happy 
in  the  thought  that  he  was  a  prospective  bishop 
rather  than  a  village  cure.  That  house,  always 
open,  seemed  to  belong  to  one  and  all. 

Abbe  Gabriel  entered  the  room  which  communi- 
cated with  the  kitchen  and  found  it  but  poorly 
furnished:  an  old  oak  table  with  four  twisted  legs,  an 
easy-chair  with  upholstered  seat,  wooden  chairs, 
an  old  chest  for  a  sideboard.  There  was  no  one 
in  the  kitchen  except  a  cat,  which  disclosed  the 
presence  of  a  woman  in  the  household.  The  other 
room  served  as  a  salon.  As  he  glanced  around,  the 
young  priest  saw  armchairs  in  natural  wood  with 
upholstered  seats.  The  wainscoting  and  the  timbers 
in  the  ceiling  were  chestnut  and  as  black  as  ebony. 
There  was  a  clock  in  a  green  case  with  flowers 
painted  on  it,  a  table  covered  with  a  worn  green 
cloth,  a  few  common  chairs,  and  upon  the  mantel 
two  candlesticks,  with  a  child  Jesus  in  wax  be- 
tween, under  its  glass  globe.  The  fireplace,  sur- 
rounded by  a  wooden  mantel  with  coarse  carvings, 
was  hidden  by  a  paper  fireboard,  the  subject  being  the 
Good  Shepherd  with  his  ewe-lamb  on  his  shoulder, 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  121 

doubtless  a  gift  from  the  daughter  of  the  mayor  or 
of  the  justice  of  the  peace,  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  pains  bestowed  upon  her  education.  The  pitiful 
condition  of  the  house  made  one's  heart  ache:  the 
walls,  once  whitewashed,  were  discolored  in  spots 
and  marred  by  constant  rubbing  to  the  height  of  a 
man's  head;  the  staircase,  with  its  wooden  stairs 
and  ungraceful  banisters,  although  spotlessly  clean, 
seemed  as  if  it  would  shake  under  your  feet. 

At  the  rear,  opposite  the  entrance-door,  another 
door,  opening  into  the  kitchen  garden,  enabled  Abbe 
de  Rastignac  to  see  the  small  size  of  that  garden, 
enclosed  as  if  by  the  wall  of  a  fortress  cut  from  the 
white,  crumbling  stone  of  the  mountain,  against 
which  were  rich  espaliers,  and  long,  ill-kept  trellises, 
all  the  foliage  being  devoured  by  insects.  He  re- 
traced his  steps,  and  walked  through  the  paths  in 
the  first  garden,  where  the  magnificent  spectacle  of 
the  valley  beyond  the  village  lay  spread  before  his 
eyes,  a  veritable  oasis  on  the  edge  of  vast  plains 
which,  veiled  as  they  were  by  the  light  morning 
mists,  resembled  a  calm  sea.  Behind,  on  the  one 
hand,  were  the  vast  shadows  of  the  bronze-hued 
forest,  and  on  the  other  the  church,  and  the  ruins 
of  the  chateau,  perched  on  the  mountain  side,  but 
standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  blue  sky.  As 
he  walked  along,  making  the  gravel  of  the  star- 
shaped,  round,  and  diamond-shaped  paths  crunch 
beneath  his  feet,  Gabriel  looked  alternately  at  the 
village,  where  the  natives,  standing  about  in  groups, 
were  already  examining  him,  at  the  green  valley 


122  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

with  its  thorn-lined  roads,  its  willow-bordered  stream, 
so  in  contrast  to  the  boundless  expanse  of  the  plains; 
thereupon  he  was  seized  by  emotions  which  changed 
the  current  of  his  thoughts:  he  admired  the  tran- 
quillity of  that  spot,  he  underwent  the  influence  of 
that  pure  air,  of  the  peace  inspired  by  the  revela- 
tion of  a  life  reduced  to  the  simplicity  of  biblical 
times;  he  had  a  confused  idea  of  the  beauties  of 
that  rectory,  whither  he  returned  to  examine  its  de- 
tails with  serious  interest.  A  little  girl,  evidently 
left  in  charge  of  the  house,  but  engaged  in  pilfering 
in  the  garden,  heard  the  footsteps  of  a  man  with 
squeaking  shoes  on  the  great  square  tiles  which 
formed  the  floor  of  the  two  lower  rooms:  she  ap- 
peared. Abashed  at  being  surprised  with  fruit  in 
her  hand  and  between  her  teeth,  she  made  no  reply 
to  the  handsome,  elegant  young  abbe's  questions. 
The  little  one  had  never  dreamed  that  there  could 
be  such  an  abbe,  resplendent  in  fine  linen  fault- 
lessly neat,  and  dressed  in  fine  black  broadcloth 
without  a  spot  or  a  crease. 

"  Monsieur  Bonnet?"  she  said  at  last;  "  Monsieur 
Bonnet's  saying  mass  and  Mademoiselle  Ursule's  at 
church." 

Abbe  Gabriel  had  not  noticed  the  gallery  connect- 
ing the  rectory  with  the  church,  so  he  went  back  to 
the  path  in  order  to  enter  the  church  by  the  prin- 
cipal door.  That  species  of  lean-to  porch  was  on 
the  village  side;  it  was  reached  by  worn,  disjointed 
stone  steps  and  overlooked  a  square  gullied  out  by 
the  rain  and  embellished  with  the  great  elms  which 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  123 

were  ordered  to  be  planted  by  the  Protestant  Sully. 
The  church,  one  of  the  poorest  in  France,  where 
there  are  many  very  poor  ones,  resembled  those 
huge  barns  which  have  a  roof  overhanging  the  door 
and  supported  by  brick  or  wooden  pillars.  Built  of 
small  stones  and  mortar,  like  the  cure's  house, 
flanked  by  a  square  bell-tower  without  a  spire, 
and  covered  with  great  round  tiles,  that  church 
had  for  exterior  decorations  the  richest  creations 
of  sculpture,  made  richer  by  light  and  shade,  re- 
touched and  massed  and  colored  by  Nature,  that 
understands  art  as  well  as  Michael  Angelo.  On  two 
sides  the  ivy  hugged  the  walls  with  its  nervous 
branches,  displaying  through  its  foliage  as  many 
veins  as  are  visible  upon  an  ecorche.  That  cloak, 
lent  by  time  to  cover  the  wounds  it  had  made, 
was  sprinkled  with  autumn  flowers  born  in  the 
crevices,  and  gave  shelter  to  singing  birds.  The 
rose-window,  above  the  awning  of  the  porch,  was 
enveloped  in  blue  bell-flowers,  like  the  first  page  of 
a  richly  painted  missal.  The  side  next  the  rectory, 
with  a  northern  exposure,  was  less  bright  with 
flowers,  the  gray  and  red  wall  could  be  seen  there 
in  great  patches  which  the  moss  did  not  cover;  but 
the  other  side  and  the  apse,  which  were  surrounded 
by  the  cemetery,  were  bright  with  resplendent  and 
varied  blossoms.  A  few  trees,  among  others  an 
almond-tree,  one  of  the  emblems  of  hope,  had  taken 
root  in  the  cracks.  Two  gigantic  pines,  standing 
close  against  the  apse,  served  as  lightning-rods. 
The  cemetery,  surrounded  by  a  low  ruined  wall, 


124  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

which  was  kept  about  waist-high  by  its  own  debris, 
had  for  ornament  an  iron  cross  set  in  a  socket,  which 
was  dressed  with  consecrated  box  at  Easter,  in  obe- 
dience to  one  of  those  touching  Christian  thoughts 
which  are  forgotten  in  cities.  The  village  cure  is 
the  only  priest  who  says  to  his  dead  on  the  day  of 
the  resurrection:  "You  will  live  again  in  joy!"  A 
few  rotting  crosses  marked  the  grass-covered  mounds 
here  and  there. 

The  interior  harmonized  perfectly  with  the  poetical 
neglect  of  that  humble  exterior,  whose  only  splendor 
was  furnished  by  time,  charitable  for  once.  Within, 
the  eye  was  first  attracted  by  the  ceiling,  sheathed 
in  chestnut  to  which  age  had  imparted  the  richest 
tones  of  the  old  woods  of  Europe,  and  which  was 
supported,  at  equal  intervals,  by  stout  columns  rest- 
ing on  transverse  timbers.  The  four  whitewashed 
walls  were  without  any  decoration.  Poverty  made 
the  parish  unwittingly  iconoclastic.  The  church 
had  a  tile  floor  and  was  supplied  with  benches  and 
lighted  by  four  gothic  windows,  on  the  sides,  with 
lead  sashes.  The  altar,  which  was  in  the  shape  of 
a  tomb,  had  for  ornament  a  large  crucifix  above  a 
walnut  tabernacle,  embellished  with  some  clean  and 
highly  polished  mouldings,  with  eight  cheap  wooden 
taper-holders  painted  white,  and  with  two  vases 
filled  with  artificial  flowers,  which  a  broker's  porter 
would  have  scorned,  but  with  which  God  was  con- 
tent. The  lamp  of  the  sanctuary  was  a  night-light 
placed  in  what  was  once  a  portable  holy-water  vessel 
in  silvered  copper,  suspended  by  silk  cords  which 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  125 

came  from  some  demolished  chateau.  The  baptismal 
fonts  were  of  wood,  as  were  the  pulpit,  and  a  sort 
of  cage  for  the  church-wardens,  the  patricians  of 
the  village.  An  altar  of  the  Virgin  held  up  to  the 
public  admiration  two  colored  lithographs,  framed 
in  small  gilt  frames.  It  was  painted  white,  dec- 
orated with  artificial  flowers  in  vases  of  gilded  wood, 
and  covered  with  an  altar-cloth  of  cheap,  rusty  lace, 
hanging  in  festoons.  At  the  rear  of  the  church,  a 
long  window  veiled  by  a  red  calico  curtain  produced 
a  wonderful  effect.  That  rich  cloak  of  deep  color 
cast  a  reddish  tinge  upon  the  whitewashed  walls: 
it  was  as  if  a  divine  thought  shone  from  the  altar 
and  embraced  the  poor  nave  to  warm  it.  The  corri- 
dor leading  to  the  sacristy  displayed  upon  one  of  its 
walls  the  patron  saint  of  the  village,  a  great  John  the 
Baptist  with  his  lamb,  carved  from  wood  and  shock- 
ingly painted. 

Notwithstanding  its  poor  appearance,  the  church 
did  not  lack  the  pleasant  harmonies  which  delight 
noble  souls,  and  which  bright  colors  bring  out  in 
such  bold  relief.  The  rich  brown  tones  of  the  wood- 
work set  off  to  admiration  the  pure  white  of  the 
walls,  and  blended  perfectly  with  the  triumphal 
dark-red  flush  cast  upon  the  apse.  That  severe 
trinity  of  colors  recalled  the  great  thought  of  Cathol- 
icism. If  the  first  sensation  at  sight  of  that  poor 
house  of  God  was  one  of  surprise,  it  was  succeeded 
by  admiration  mingled  with  pity:  did  it  not  express 
the  poverty  of  the  country  round  about?  was  it  not 
in  accord  with  the  artless  simplicity  of  the  rectory? 


126  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

It  was  clean,  moreover,  and  well  looked  to.  The 
air  was  filled,  as  it  were,  with  a  perfume  of  rustic 
virtues;  nothing  indicated  neglect.  Although  rustic 
and  simple,  it  was  inhabited  by  prayer,  it  had  a 
soul;  one  felt  that  it  was  so  without  understanding 
how. 

Abbe  Gabriel,  in  order  not  to  disturb  the  medi- 
tations of  two  groups  on  the  upper  benches,  glided 
softly  to  a  place  beside  the  principal  altar,  which  was 
separated  from  the  nave,  just  where  the  lamp  hung 
down,  by  a  rail  of  coarse  workmanship,  also  made  of 
chestnut,  and  covered  with  the  cloth  intended  for  the 
communion.  On  each  side  of  the  nave,  a  score  or 
more  of  peasants,  men  and  women,  absorbed  in  the 
most  fervent  prayer,  paid  no  heed  to  the  stranger  as 
he  walked  up  the  narrow  passage  between  the  two 
rows  of  benches.  When  he  reached  a  point  under  the 
lamp,  from  which  he  could  see  the  two  small  naves 
which  represented  the  branches  of  the  cross,  and  one 
of  which  led  to  the  sacristy,  the  other  to  the  ceme- 
tery, Abbe  Gabriel  noticed,  on  the  cemetery  side,  a 
family  dressed  in  black  and  kneeling  on  the  floor; 
there  were  no  benches  in  those  two  portions  of  the 
church.  The  young  abbe  prostrated  himself  on 
the  step  leading  to  the  rail  that  separated  the  choir 
from  the  nave,  and  began  to  pray,  glancing  obliquely 
meanwhile  at  that  spectacle,  which  was  soon  made 
clear  to  him.  The  Gospel  was  read.  The  cure  laid 
aside  his  chasuble  and  stepped  down  from  the  altar 
to  go  to  the  rail.  The  young  abbe,  anticipating 
that  movement,  drew  back  against  the  wall  before 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  127 

Monsieur  Bonnet  could  see  him.  The  clock  struck 
ten. 

"My  brethren,"  said  the  cure,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  with  emotion,  "  at  this  very  moment  a 
child  of  this  parish  is  about  to  pay  his  debt  to  the 
laws  of  mankind  by  undergoing  the  last  punishment; 
we  offer  the  blessed  sacrifice  of  the  mass  for  the 
repose  of  his  soul.  Let  us  unite  our  prayers  in 
order  that  we  may  prevail  upon  God  not  to  abandon 
that  child  in  his  last  moments,  and  that  his  repent- 
ance may  procure  for  him  in  heaven  the  pardon  that 
has  been  denied  him  on  earth.  The  downfall  of 
that  unhappy  man,  one  of  those  upon  whom  we  had 
relied  with  the  greatest  assurance  to  set  a  worthy 
example,  can  be  attributed  only  to  lack  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  principles  of  religion — " 

The  cure  was  interrupted  by  sobs  from  the  family 
in  mourning,  in  whom  the  young  priest,  by  reason 
of  their  excessive  grief,  recognized  the  Tascheron 
family,  although  he  had  never  seen  any  of  them. 
First,  there  were  two  old  people  close  against  the 
wall,  seventy  years  of  age  at  least,  their  faces 
tanned  like  Florentine  bronze,  and  seamed  with 
deep,  motionless  wrinkles.  These  two,  standing 
stoically  there  in  their  patched  clothes,  like  statues, 
were  evidently  the  condemned  man's  grandfather 
and  grandmother.  Their  red,  glassy  eyes  seemed 
to  weep  blood;  their  arms  trembled  so  that  the 
staves  upon  which  they  leaned  made  a  slight  noise 
on  the  floor.  After  them  were  the  father  and 
mother,  weeping  bitterly,  their  faces  hidden  in  their 


128  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

handkerchiefs.  Near  by  these  four  heads  of  the 
family  knelt  two  married  sisters,  accompanied  by 
their  husbands.  Then  three  sons,  dazed  with  grief. 
Five  little  kneeling  children,  the  eldest  of  them  only 
seven,  of  course  did  not  understand  what  the  matter 
was:  they  looked  and  listened  with  the  apparently 
torpid  curiosity  characteristic  of  the  peasant,  which 
is  in  reality  keen  observation  of  material  things 
carried  to  its  highest  development.  Lastly,  there 
was  the  poor  girl  who  had  been  imprisoned  at  the 
desire  of  the  authorities,  Denise,  that  martyr  to  her 
sisterly  love,  who  listened  with  an  air  that  suggested 
aberration  and  incredulity  at  once.  In  her  view  her 
brother  could  not  die.  She  represented  admirably 
that  one  of  the  three  Marys  who  did  not  believe  in 
Christ's  death,  even  while  sharing  its  agony.  Pale, 
with  dry  eyes,  like  those  of  one  who  has  had  little 
sleep,  her  fresh  bloom  was  withered  less  by  working 
in  the  fields  than  by  grief;  but  she  had  still  a  country- 
girl's  beauty,  full,  well-rounded  outlines,  fine  red 
arms,  a  round  face,  bright  eyes,  lighted  at  that 
moment  by  the  gleam  of  despair.  At  several  points 
below  the  neck,  the  firm,  white  flesh  which  the  sun 
had  not  bronzed  announced  a  rich  carnation,  a  con- 
cealed whiteness. 

The  two  married  daughters  were  weeping;  their 
husbands,  patient  farmers,  were  grave  and  serious. 
The  three  boys,  profoundly  sad,  kept  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground.  In  that  lamentable  picture  of 
resignation  and  hopeless  grief,  only  Denise  and  her 
mother  showed  any  symptoms  of  revolt.  The  other 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  129 

natives  made  themselves  sharers  in  the  affliction  of 
that  family  by  a  sincere  and  pious  sympathy,  which 
imparted  to  all  their  faces  the  same  expression,  and 
which  became  downright  terror,  when  the  few  sen- 
tences uttered  by  the  cure  brought  home  to  their 
minds  the  fact  that  the  knife  was  falling  at  that 
moment  upon  the  head  of  the  young  man,  whom 
they  had  all  known  since  his  birth,  and  had  looked 
upon  as  incapable,  beyond  all  question,  of  commit- 
ting a  crime.  The  sobs  that  interrupted  the  simple 
and  brief  exhortation  of  the  priest  to  his  flock  dis- 
turbed him  to  such  a  point  that  he  at  once  brought  it 
to  an  end,  calling  upon  them  to  pray  fervently. 

Although  that  spectacle  was  not  of  a  nature  to 
surprise  a  priest,  Gabriel  de  Rastignac  was  too 
young  not  to  be  deeply  touched.  He  had  never  yet 
put  in  practice  the  humble  virtues  of  the  priest,  he 
knew  that  he  was  destined  for  higher  things,  that  it 
was  not  for  him  to  stand  in  all  the  social  breaches 
where  the  heart  bleeds  at  sight  of  the  miseries  with 
which  they  are  filled;  his  mission  was  that  of  the 
upper  clergy,  who  keep  alive  the  spirit  of  sacrifice, 
represent  the  lofty  intelligence  of  the  Church,  and 
on  brilliant  occasions  display  those  same  virtues  upon 
a  more  extensive  stage,  like  the  illustrious  bishops  of 
Marseilles  and  Meaux,  like  the  archbishops  of  Aries 
and  Cambrai.  That  little  assemblage  of  country 
people  weeping  and  praying  for  the  man  who,  they 
supposed,  was  being  led  out  to  execution  in  a  great 
public  square,  before  thousands  of  people  gathered 
from  all  parts  to  add  to  the  punishment  by  the 

9 


130  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

immensity  of  the  shame;  that  feeble  counterpoise  of 
sympathy  and  prayer  opposed  to  that  vast  assem- 
blage of  savage  curiosities  and  deserved  maledic- 
tions,— was  of  a  nature  to  touch  the  hardest  heart, 
especially  in  that  poor  church.  Abbe  Gabriel  was 
tempted  to  go  to  the  Tascherons  and  say:  "Your 
son,  your  brother,  has  obtained  a  reprieve!"  but  he 
was  afraid  of  disturbing  the  mass;  moreover,  he 
knew  that  the  reprieve  would  not  prevent  the  execu- 
tion. Instead  of  following  the  service,  he  was  irre- 
sistibly impelled  to  watch  the  pastor  to  whom  they 
looked  to  perform  the  miracle  of  converting  the 
criminal. 

Gabriel  de  Rastignac  had  drawn  a  mental  picture 
of  Monsieur  Bonnet,  based  upon  the  appearance  of 
the  rectory:  a  short,  stout  man,  with  a  strong,  red 
face,  a  rough,  hard-working,  semi-peasant,  tanned 
by  the  sun.  Far  from  such  being  the  case,  the  abbe 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  his  equal.  Short  of 
stature  and  in  appearance  far  from  strong,  Monsieur 
Bonnet  impressed  one  at  first  sight  by  the  rapt 
countenance  we  imagine  the  apostles  to  have  had: 
an  almost  triangular  face,  beginning  above  with  a 
broad,  wrinkled  forehead,  and  extending  from  the 
temples  to  the  point  of  the  chin  in  two  gaunt  lines 
drawn  by  the  hollow  cheeks.  In  that  face,  of  a 
sickly  yellow  tinge,  like  the  wax  in  a  taper,  gleamed 
two  blue  eyes,  luminous  with  faith,  burning  with 
intense  hope.  It  was  divided  in  two  equal  parts  by 
a  long,  thin,  straight  nose  with  open  nostrils,  be- 
neath which  was  a  large  mouth  with  prominent  lips, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  131 

which  talked  always,  even  when  closed,  and  from 
which  came  one  of  those  voices  which  go  to  the 
heart.  The  chestnut  hair,  thin  and  fine  and  combed 
smoothly,  denoted  a  weak  constitution,  sustained 
only  by  sober  living.  All  that  man's  strength  lay 
in  his  will.  Such  were  his  distinguishing  features. 
His  short  hands  would  have  indicated  in  any  other  a 
tendency  toward  sensual  pleasures;  perhaps  he  had, 
like  Socrates,  conquered  his  evil  thoughts.  He  was 
so  thin  as  to  be  ungraceful:  his  shoulder-blades  were 
too  prominent,  he  looked  knock-kneed.  His  chest, 
over-developed  compared  with  his  limbs,  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  a  hunchback  without  the  hunch. 
Taken  all  in  all,  he  was  likely  to  produce  an  un- 
pleasant impression.  Only  those  to  whom  the 
miracles  of  thought  and  faith  and  art  are  known 
could  admire  that  flashing  martyr's  glance,  that 
pallor  born  of  constancy,  that  voice  of  love  which 
distinguished  the  cure  Bonnet.  That  man,  worthy 
of  the  early  days  of  the  Church,  a  type  that  has 
no  existence  to-day  save  in  the  pictures  of  the  six- 
teenth century  and  the  pages  of  the  Martyrology,  was 
stamped  with  the  seal  of  human  grandeur,  which  most 
nearly  approaches  divine  grandeur,  with  the  convic- 
tion which  embellishes  the  most  ordinary  faces  by 
the  indefinable  touch  it  imparts  to  them,  and  which 
spreads  a  warm,  golden  tinge  over  the  faces  of  men 
whose  lives  are  devoted  to  any  cult,  just  as  it 
illumines  the  face  of  a  woman  glorified  by  an  un- 
selfish passion.  Conviction  is  the  human  will  in 
its  highest  development.  Effect  and  cause  at  once, 


132  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

it  makes  an  impression  on  the  least  impressionable 
minds,  it  is  a  sort  of  mute  eloquence  that  lays  hold 
of  the  masses. 

As  he  stepped  down  from  the  altar,  the  cure's 
eyes  met  Abbe  Gabriel's;  he  recognized  him,  and 
when  the  bishop's  secretary  appeared  in  the  sac- 
risty, Ursule,  who  had  received  her  orders  from  her 
master,  was  there  alone,  and  requested  the  young 
abbe  to  follow  her. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Ursule,  a  female  of  canonical 
age,  as  she  escorted  Abbe  de  Rastignac  through  the 
gallery  into  the  garden,  "Monsieur  le  Cure  told  me 
to  ask  you  if  you  had  breakfasted.  You  must  have 
started  from  Limoges  very  early  to  be  here  at  ten 
o'clock,  so  I  will  go  and  prepare  everything  for 
breakfast.  Monsieur  1'Abbe  will  not  find  such  a 
table  as  monseigneur's  here,  but  we  will  do  our 
best.  Monsieur  Bonnet  will  soon  be  back,  he  has 
gone  to  comfort  those  poor  people — the  Tascherons. 
This  is  the  day  when  their  son  is  to  meet  with  a 
horrible  accident — " 

"  But  where  do  those  poor  creatures  live?"  said 
Abbe  Gabriel,  at  last.  "  I  am  to  take  Monsieur 
Bonnet  back  with  me  to  Limoges  instantly,  by  mon- 
seigneur's order.  The  unhappy  man  will  not  be 
executed  to-day,  monseigneur  has  obtained  a  re- 
prieve— " 

"Ah!"  said  Ursule,  whose  tongue  itched  to  go  out 
and  spread  that  piece  of  news,  "  monsieur  will  have 
time  to  go  and  carry  them  that  consolation  while 
I  am  preparing  breakfast;  the  Tascherons'  house  is 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  133 

at  the  end  of  the  village.  Follow  the  path  that  runs 
at  the  foot  of  the  terrace;  it  will  take  you  there." 

When  Ursule  had  watched  Abbe  Gabriel  out  of 
sight,  she  went  down  to  spread  the  news  in  the  vil- 
lage, while  procuring  the  necessary  materials  for  the 
breakfast. 

The  cure  had  been  abruptly  informed  at  the 
church  of  a  desperate  resolution  to  which  the 
Tascherons  had  been  led  by  the  dismissal  of 
the  appeal.  Those  worthy  people  proposed  to 
leave  the  province,  and  were  to  receive  that  morn- 
ing the  price  of  their  property,  sold  in  anticipation 
of  that  step.  The  sale  had  necessitated  delays 
and  formalities  unforeseen  by  them.  Being  com- 
pelled to  remain  in  the  neighborhood  after  Jean- 
Francois's  conviction,  each  day  had  been  to  them 
a  bitter  cup  to  drink.  The  plan  they  had  carried 
out  so  mysteriously  did  not  transpire  until  the 
day  preceding  that  on  which  the  execution  was  to 
take  place.  The  Tascherons  had  believed  that  they 
would  be  able  to  leave  before  that  fatal  day;  but  the 
purchaser  of  their  property  was  a  stranger  to  the 
canton,  a  man  from  La  Correze,  who  cared  nothing 
for  their  reasons  for  wishing  to  be  gone,  and  who 
had  been  delayed,  too,  in  calling  in  his  funds.  Thus 
the  family  was  obliged  to  face  its  misery  to  the  end. 
The  feeling  that  dictated  this  self-exile  was  so  in- 
tense in  those  simple  hearts,  unused  to  compromises 
with  their  conscience,  that  the  grandfather  and 
grandmother,  the  daughters  and  their  husbands, 
the  father  and  mother,  all  who  bore  the  name  of 


134  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Tascheron  or  were  allied  to  them  were  leaving  the 
province.  The  whole  commune  was  grieved  by  this 
emigration.  The  mayor  had  come  to  beg  the  cure 
not  to  let  the  poor  people  go. 

According  to  the  new  law,  the  father  is  not  respon- 
sible for  the  son,  and  the  father's  crime  leaves  no 
stain  on  his  family.  This  system,  working  in  har- 
mony with  the  various  emancipations  that  have 
done  so  much  to  weaken  the  paternal  authority, 
has  brought  about  the  triumph  of  the  individualism 
that  is  the  bane  of  modern  society.  Thus  the  man 
who  thinks  upon  the  things  of  the  future  sees  family 
spirit  destroyed  where  the  compilers  of  the  new  code 
have  established  freedom  of  will  and  equality.  The 
family  will  always  be  the  basis  of  societies.  Neces- 
sarily temporary,  constantly  divided,  reconstituted 
only  to  be  dissolved  anew,  with  no  connecting-links 
between  the  future  and  the  past,  the  family  of  an 
earlier  day  no  longer  exists  in  France.  They  who 
have  gone  forward  with  the  demolition  of  the  ancient 
structure  have  been  logical  in  dividing  the  family 
property  equally,  in  diminishing  the  authority  of  the 
father,  in  making  of  every  child  the  head  of  a  new 
family,  in  suppressing  burdensome  responsibilities; 
but  is  the  social  State  as  solidly  constructed,  with 
its  new  laws,  not  as  yet  subjected  to  the  test  of  time, 
as  the  monarchy  was,  notwithstanding  its  long-stand- 
ing abuses?  In  losing  the  solidarity  of  the  family, 
society  has  lost  that  fundamental  force  which  Mon- 
tesquieu discovered  and  called  honor.  It  has  isolated 
everything  in  order  to  assert  its  power  more  firmly, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  135 

it  has  divided  everything  in  order  to  weaken.  It 
reigns  over  units,  over  ciphers  heaped  together  like 
grains  of  wheat  in  a  bin.  Can  general  interests  ever 
replace  family  interests?  It  is  for  time  to  solve  that 
question.  Nevertheless,  the  old  law  exists,  it  has 
taken  such  deep  root  that  you  find  it  flourishing 
among  the  common  people.  There  are  still  lost 
corners  in  the  provinces  where  what  is  called  prej- 
udice subsists,  where  the  family  suffers  for  the 
crime  of  one  of  its  children,  or  of  one  of  its  elders. 
That  idea  made  the  province  uninhabitable  to  the 
Tascherons.  Their  profound  religious  faith  had  led 
them  to  the  church  in  the  morning:  was  it  possible 
for  them  to  refrain  from  participating  in  the  sacrifice 
offered  up  to  God  to  beseech  Him  to  inspire  in  their 
son  the  repentance  which  would  ensure  him  life  ever- 
lasting? and,  must  they  not  say  farewell  to  their 
village  altar?  But  their  plan  was  consummated. 
When  the  cure,  who  followed  them,  entered  the 
principal  room  of  their  house,  he  found  their  bags 
packed  for  the  journey.  The  purchaser  was  waiting 
with  his  money.  The  notary  was  just  drawing  up 
the  receipts.  In  the  yard  behind  the  house  a  carriole 
stood  ready  to  take  the  two  old  people  and  Jean- 
Francois's  mother,  with  the  money.  The  rest  of 
the  family  intended  to  set  out  on  foot,  after  dark. 

When  the  young  abbe  entered  the  lower  room  in 
which  the  whole  family  was  assembled,  the  cure  of 
Montegnac  had  exhausted  all  the  resources  of  his 
eloquence.  The  two  old  people,  insensible  with 
grief,  were  sitting  on  their  bags  in  a  corner,  gazing 


136  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

at  their  old  ancestral  house,  its  furniture,  and  the 
purchaser,  then  looking  at  each  other  as  if  to  say: 
"  Could  we  ever  have  believed  that  such  a  thing 
could  happen?"  Those  old  people,  who  had  long 
since  resigned  their  authority  to  their  son,  the 
criminal's  father,  had,  like  aged  kings  after  their 
abdication,  resumed  the  passive  role  of  subjects  and 
children.  Tascheron  was  standing,  listening  to  the 
pastor,  and  answering  him  with  monosyllables  in  an 
undertone.  He  was  a  man  of  about  forty-eight  years, 
with  the  beautiful  face  that  Titian  has  given  to  all 
his  apostles:  a  face  expressive  of  faith,  of  serious 
and  sedate  uprightness;  a  stern  profile,  a  nose  at 
right  angles  to  the  face,  blue  eyes,  a  noble  forehead, 
regular  features,  stiff,  curly  black  hair,  planted  with 
the  symmetry  that  gives  attractiveness  to  faces 
bronzed  by  working  in  the  open  air.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  the  cure's  arguments  were  ineffectual  against 
an  inflexible  will.  Denise  was  leaning  against  the 
bread-chest,  watching  the  notary,  who  was  using 
that  article  of  furniture  as  a  desk  and  sitting  in  the 
grandmother's  armchair.  The  purchaser  sat  on  a 
chair  beside  the  notary.  The  two  married  sisters 
were  laying  the  cloth  and  preparing  the  last  meal 
which  the  ancestors  were  to  offer  and  to  partake  of 
in  their  house,  in  their  province,  before  departing 
for  unknown  regions.  The  men  were  half-sitting  on 
a  great  bed  covered  with  green  serge.  The  mother 
was  busy  over  the  fire,  making  an  omelet.  The 
grandchildren  filled  up  the  doorway,  and  the  pur- 
chaser's family  stood  outside. 


THE  APPEAL    TO   THE   CURE 


At  that  moment  the  cure  felt  a  hand  pulling  at  hu- 
cassock,  he  heard  sobs,  and,  upon  turning  around, 
saw  the  whole  family  kneeling.  Old  and  young, 
large  and  small,  men  and  women,  all  were  holding 
out  their  hands  imploringly. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  137 

The  old  smoke-blackened  room,  with  its  dark 
timbers,  through  the  window  of  which  could  be  seen 
a  carefully-tended  garden  where  all  the  trees  had 
been  planted  by  those  two  septuagenarians,  har- 
monized with  their  concentrated  suffering,  which 
could  be  read  in  so  many  varying  expressions  upon 
all  those  faces.  The  meal  was  prepared  especially 
for  the  notary,  the  purchaser,  the  children,  and  the 
sons-in-law.  The  father  and  mother,  Denise  and 
her  sisters,  were  too  sad  at  heart  to  satisfy  their 
hunger.  There  was  a  lofty  and  heart-rending  resig- 
nation in  the  fulfilment  of  these  last  duties  of  rustic 
hospitality.  The  Tascherons,  those  men  of  an  an- 
tique type,  ended  as  we  begin,  by  doing  the  honors 
of  their  house.  That  picture,  simple  yet  full  of  so- 
lemnity, met  the  glance  of  the  bishop's  secretary 
when  he  arrived  to  inform  the  cure  of  Montegnac  of 
the  bishop's  purpose. 

"  This  worthy  man's  son  still  lives,"  said  Gabriel 
to  the  cure. 

At  those  words,  plainly  heard  by  all  in  the  silence, 
the  two  old  people  sprang  to  their  feet  as  if  the 
trumpet  had  sounded  for  the  last  judgment.  The 
mother  dropped  her  frying-pan  into  the  fire.  Denise 
uttered  a  joyful  cry.  All  the  others  remained  in  a 
state  of  stupefaction  which  seemed  to  turn  them  to 
stone. 

"  Jean-Francois  is  pardoned!"  suddenly  shouted 
the  whole  village,  the  inhabitants  having  rushed 
in  a  body  to  the  Tascheron  house.  "  Monseigneur 
the  bishop  has — " 


138  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"  1  knew  that  he  was  innocent!"  said  the  mother. 

"  This  won't  prevent  the  trade,  will  it  ?"  said  the 
purchaser  to  the  notary,  who  answered  with  an 
assuring  nod  of  the  head. 

Abbe  Gabriel  became  in  an  instant  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes;  his  melancholy  expression  led  some  to 
suspect  a  misapprehension,  and  in  order  not  to  ban- 
ish the  general  joy  himself,  he  went  out,  followed  by 
the  cure,  and  stood  outside  to  send  away  the  crowd, 
telling  those  who  were  nearest  him  that  the  execution 
was  only  postponed.  Thereupon  the  uproar  was  at 
once  replaced  by  a  gloomy  silence.  When  the  abbe 
and  the  cure  returned  to  the  house,  there  was  an 
expression  of  heart-rending  grief  on  every  face:  the 
silence  of  the  village  had  been  rightly  interpreted. 

"  My  friends,  Jean-Francois  has  not  received  a 
pardon,"  said  the  young  abbe,  seeing  that  the  blow 
had  told;  "  but  his  frame  of  mind  has  so  disturbed 
monseigneur,  that  he  has  procured  a  postponement 
of  your  son's  last  day  on  earth, — hoping  to  save 
him  in  eternity." 

"  Then  he  is  alive?"  cried  Denise. 

The  young  abbe  took  the  cure  aside  to  explain  to 
him  the  perilous  plight  in  which  his  parishioner's 
impiety  placed  the  interests  of  the  religion,  and  what 
the  bishop  expected  of  him. 

"Monseigneur  demands  my  death,"  replied  the 
cure,  "  1  have  already  refused  the  entreaties  of  this 
afflicted  family  to  go  and  assist  that  unhappy  child. 
The  interview,  and  the  spectacle  which  I  should 
have  to  witness,  would  shatter  me  like  a  glass.  To 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  139 

every  man  his  work.  The  weakness  of  my  consti- 
tution, or  rather  the  too  great  sensitiveness  of  my 
nervous  organism,  forbids  my  exercising  those  func- 
tions of  our  profession.  I  have  remained  a  simple 
village  cure,  in  order  to  be  useful  to  my  fellow-men 
in  the  sphere  in  which  I  can  lead  a  Christian  life. 
I  have  reflected  long  and  deeply,  hoping  to  find  a 
way  to  gratify  this  virtuous  family  and  to  fulfil  my 
duties  as  pastor  to  that  poor  child;  but,  at  the  mere 
thought  of  entering  the  criminals'  cart  with  him,  at 
the  mere  thought  of  witnessing  the  fatal  prepara- 
tions, I  feel  a  deathly  shudder  run  through  my 
veins.  You  would  not  demand  that  of  a  mother, 
and  consider,  monsieur,  that  he  was  born  in  the 
bosom  of  my  poor  church — " 

"  I  understand,  then,  that  you  refuse  to  obey 
monseigneur?"  said  Abbe  Gabriel. 

"  Monseigneur  does  not  know  the  condition  of  my 
health,  he  does  not  know  that  in  my  case  nature 
itself  forbids — "  said  Monsieur  Bonnet,  glancing  at 
the  young  abbe. 

"  There  are  times  when;  like  Belzunce  at  Mar- 
seilles, we  ought  to  dare  certain  death,"  Gabriel 
interrupted. 

At  that  moment  the  cure  felt  a  hand  pulling  at  his 
cassock,  he  heard  sobs,  and,  upon  turning  around,  saw 
the  whole  family  kneeling.  Old  and  young,  large 
and  small,  men  and  women,  all  were  holding  out  their 
hands  imploringly.  When  he  turned  his  glowing  face 
upon  them,  a  single  cry  arose  from  every  throat: 

"  Save  his  soul,  at  least!" 


140  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

The  old  grandmother  had  pulled  the  hem  of  his 
cassock  and  wet  it  with  her  tears. 

"  I  will  obey,  monsieur — " 

As  he  spoke,  the  cure  was  forced  to  sit  down, 
his  legs  trembled  so.  The  young  secretary  de- 
scribed Jean-Francois's  frenzied  condition. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  said  Abbe  Gabriel,  in  con- 
clusion, "that  the  sight  of  his  sister  would  make 
him  waver?" 

"Surely,  yes,"  replied  the  cure. — "  Denise,  you 
will  go  with  us." 

"And  I,  too,"  said  the  mother. 

"No!"  cried  the  father.  "That  child  no  longer 
lives  for  us,  as  you  know.  No  one  of  us  will  see 
him." 

"Do  not  prevent  his  salvation,"  said  the  young 
abbe,  "you  would  be  responsible  for  his  soul  if 
you  should  deny  us  the  means  of  softening  him. 
At  this  moment  his  death  may  become  more  harm- 
ful in  its  effects  than  his  life  has  been." 

"She  shall  go,"  said  the  father.  "It  will  be  her 
punishment  for  having  interfered  to  prevent  me 
whenever  I  wished  to  correct  her  boy!" 

Abbe  Gabriel  and  Monsieur  Bonnet  returned  to 
the  rectory,  where  Denise  and  her  mother  were 
told  to  come,  when  the  two  priests  were  ready  to 
start  for  Limoges.  As  they  walked  along  the  path 
that  followed  the  outskirts  of  upper  Montegnac, 
the  young  man  was  able  to  scrutinize  less  super- 
ficially than  at  the  church  the  man  so  highly 
extolled  by  the  vicar-general:  he  was  at  once 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  141 

favorably  impressed  by  the  simple  and  dignified 
manner,  by  that  magical  voice,  and  by  words  in 
harmony  with  the  voice.  The  cure  had  been  but 
once  to  the  bishop's  palace  since  the  prelate  had 
taken  Gabriel  de  Rastignac  for  his  secretary, 
and  had  barely  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  favorite 
destined  for  a  bishopric,  but  he  knew  how  great 
his  influence  was;  nevertheless,  he  bore  himself 
with  a  dignified  urbanity  which  betrayed  his 
appreciation  of  the  sovereign  independence  the 
Church  accords  to  cures  in  their  parishes.  The 
young  abbe's  sentiments,  far  from  lighting  up  his 
face,  imprinted  a  stern  expression  upon  it;  it  was 
more  than  cold,  it  was  freezing.  A  man  capable 
of  transforming  the  moral  character  of  a  whole 
village  must  be  endowed  with  some  power  of  ob- 
servation, must  be  more  or  less  of  a  physiogno- 
mist; but,  even  if  the  cure  had  possessed  nothing 
more  than  the  science  of  well-doing,  he  had  just 
given  proof  of  a  rare  sensitiveness;  he  was  struck, 
therefore,  by  the  coldness  with  which  the  bishop's 
secretary  received  his  advances  and  his  civilities. 
Compelled  to  attribute  that  disdain  to  some  secret 
displeasure,  he  tried  to  think  how  he  could  have 
wounded  him,  wherein  his  conduct  could  be  con- 
sidered blameworthy  in  the  eyes  of  his  superiors. 
There  was  a  moment  of  embarrassing  silence, 
which  Abbe  de  Rastignac  broke  by  a  question 
overflowing  with  aristocratic  pride: 

"You    have    a  very  poor   church,   Monsieur   le 
Cure?" 


142  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"  It  is  too  small,"  Monsieur  Bonnet  replied.  "  On 
the  great  festivals  the  old  men  put  benches  under 
the  porch,  the  young  men  stand  about  in  a  circle 
on  the  square;  but  it  is  so  perfectly  still  that  those 
outside  can  hear  my  voice." 

Gabriel  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  If  the  people  are  so  religious,  how  happens  it 
that  you  allow  the  church  to  remain  so  bare?"  he 
asked. 

"  Alas!  monsieur,  I  have  not  the  courage  to  spend 
money  which  will  assist  the  poor.  The  poor  are  the 
church.  However,  I  should  not  fear  a  visit  from 
Monseigneur  on  Corpus  Christi  day!  On  that  day 
the  poor  give  all  that  they  have  to  the  Church! 
Did  you  not  notice,  monsieur,  the  nails  driven  into 
the  walls  at  intervals?  they  are  used  to  hold  a 
sort  of  trellis  made  of  wire  on  which  the  women 
hang  bouquets.  The  church  is  then  entirely  clothed 
with  flowers  that  retain  their  bloom  until  the  even- 
ing. My  poor  church,  which  seems  so  bare  to  you, 
is  decked  out  like  a  bride,  it  perfumes  the  air,  the 
ground  is  strewn  with  leaves  through  which  they 
make  a  path  of  rose-leaves  for  the  passage  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament.  On  that  day  I  would  not  fear 
a  comparison  with  the  splendors  of  Saint  Peter's  at 
Rome.  The  Holy  Father  has  his  gold;  I  have  my 
flowers:  to  each  his  miracle.  Ah!  monsieur,  the 
village  of  Montegnac  is  poor,  but  it  is  Catholic. 
Formerly  they  robbed  travellers  here;  to-day  the 
traveller  may  drop  a  bag  full  of  gold-pieces,  he  will 
find  it  at  his  home." 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  143 

"  Such  a  result  is  your  eulogy,"  said  Gabriel. 

"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  me,"  rejoined  the 
cure,  blushing,  for  that  sharpened  epigram  had 
struck  home,  "  but  with  God's  word,  with  the  con- 
secrated bread." 

"  Bread  that  borders  on  the  brown,"  said  Abbe 
Gabriel,  with  a  smile. 

"  White  bread  is  suited  to  the  stomachs  of  none 
but  the  rich,"  replied  the  cure,  modestly. 

At  that  the  young  abbe  grasped  Monsieur  Bonnet's 
hands  and  pressed  them  cordially. 

"  Pardon  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  he  said,  making 
his  peace  with  him  instantly  by  a  glance  from  his 
lovely  blue  eyes  which  went  straight  to  the  cure's 
heart.  "  Monseigneur  bade  me  put  your  patience 
and  your  modesty  to  the  test;  but  I  can  go  no 
further,  for  I  see  already  how  you  have  been  slan- 
dered by  the  praises  of  the  liberals." 

The  breakfast  was  ready:  fresh  eggs,  butter, 
honey  and  fruit,  coffee  and  cream,  served  by 
Ursule,  amid  bouquets  of  flowers,  upon  a  snowy 
cloth  spread  upon  the  old-fashioned  table  in  that  old 
dining-room.  The  window,  which  looked  on  the 
terrace,  was  open.  The  sill  was  framed  by  clematis, 
laden  with  its  white  stars  with  the  yellow  bunches 
of  curly  stamens  at  the  centre.  A  jasmin  ran  along 
on  one  side,  nasturtiums  clambered  up  the  other. 
Above,  the  grapevine  trained  over  a  trellis;  its 
leaves,  already  turning  ruddy,  made  a  rich  border 
which  a  sculptor  could  not  have  reproduced,  the 
alternations  of  light  and  shade  produced  by  the 


144  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

notching  of  the  leaves  gave  it  such  fascinating 
grace. 

"  Here  you  find  life  reduced  to  its  simplest  form," 
said  the  cure,  smiling,  without  laying  aside  the 
melancholy  manner  due  to  the  burden  of  sadness 
upon  his  heart.  "  If  we  had  known  of  your  arrival, — 
but  who  could  have  foreseen  its  purpose? — Ursule 
would  have  obtained  some  mountain  trout;  there  is 
a  stream  in  the  forest  in  which  there  are  some  fine 
ones.  But  I  forget  that  this  is  August  and  the 
Gabou  is  dry!  My  brain  is  rather  confused." 

"You  are  happy  here?"  queried  the  young  abbe. 

"Yes,  monsieur.  God  willing,  I  shall  die  cure 
of  Montegnac.  I  could  wish  that  my  example  might 
be  followed  by  some  distinguished  men  who  have 
thought  that  they  could  do  better  by  becoming 
philanthropists.  Modern  philanthropy  is  the  bane 
of  society,  the  principles  of  the  Catholic  religion 
alone  can  cure  the  diseases  that  prey  upon  the 
social  body.  Instead  of  describing  the  disease  and 
extending  its  ravages  by  plaintive  elegies,  everyone 
should  put  his  hand  to  the  work  and  enter  the  Lord's 
vineyard  as  a  simple  workman.  My  task  here  is 
far  from  being  finished,  monsieur;  it  is  not  enough 
to  preach  morality  to  people  whom  I  found  in  a 
frightful  state  of  impiety,  and  I  wish  to  die  amid 
a  generation  that  is  absolutely  converted." 

"You  have  done  no  more  than  your  duty,"  said 
the  young  man,  in  his  former  dry  tone,  for  he  was 
bitten  to  the  heart  by  jealousy. 

"Oh!  monsieur,"  rejoined  the  priest,  modestly, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  145 

after  casting  a  shrewd  glance  at  him,  as  if  to  ask: 
"Is  this  another  test?" — "Every  hour  in  the  day 
I  pray  that  everyone  in  the  realm  may  do  his." 

That  sentence,  profoundly  significant  as  it  was, 
received  added  significance  from  the  tone  in  which  it 
was  spoken,  which  proved  that  that  priest,  who  was 
as  great  by  reason  of  his  mental  powers,  as  by  the 
humility  of  his  conduct,  and  who  subordinated  his 
ideas  to  those  of  his  superiors,  had  a  keen  insight 
into  the  destiny  of  the  monarchy  and  the  Church. 

When  the  two  unhappy  women  had  arrived,  the 
abbe,  being  most  impatient  to  return  to  Limoges,  left 
them  in  the  rectory,  and  and  went  to  see  if  the  horses 
were  harnessed.  A  few  moments  later  he  returned 
to  say  that  everything  was  ready  for  their  departure. 
The  four  set  out  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  Montegnac,  who  stood  grouped  on  the  road 
in  front  of  the  post-house.  The  mother  and  sister  of 
the  condemned  man  did  not  speak.  The  two  priests, 
foreseeing  shoals  and  quicksands  in  many  subjects, 
could  neither  seem  indifferent  nor  be  gay.  Seeking 
to  discover  some  neutral  ground  for  conversation, 
they  started  across  the  plain  whose  aspect  had  its 
effect  upon  the  duration  of  their  melancholy  silence. 

"What  motives  led  you  to  embrace  the  clerical 
profession?"  Abbe  Gabriel  abruptly  asked  the  cure, 
impelled  by  a  thoughtless  curiosity  which  seized  upon 
him  as  they  came  out  upon  the  main  road. 

"  I  did  not  look  upon  the  priesthood  as  a  profes- 
sion," replied  the  cure,  simply.  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand how  any  man  can  become  a  priest  for  any 

10 


146  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

other  reason  than  the  indefinable  force  of  vocation. 
I  know  that  some  men  have  become  workers  in  the 
Lord's  vineyard  after  wearing  out  their  hearts  in  the 
service  of  the  passions;  some  have  loved  without 
hope,  others  have  been  deceived;  these  have  lost 
the  bloom  of  their  lives  when  burying  a  cherished 
wife  or  an  adored  mistress;  those  have  become  dis- 
gusted with  society  at  a  time  when  uncertainty 
hovers  over  everything,  even  the  sentiments,  when 
doubt  mocks  at  the  sweetest  certainties,  calling  them 
beliefs.  Some  abandon  politics  at  a  time  when 
government  seems  to  be  an  expiation,  when  the 
governed  look  upon  obedience  as  a  fatality.  Many 
leave  a  society  without  standards,  where  opposing 
parties  join  together  to  dethrone  the  right.  I  do  not 
imagine  that  men  give  themselves  to  God  from  mo- 
tives of  cupidity.  Some  men  may  see  in  the  priest- 
hood a  means  of  regenerating  our  country;  but, 
according  to  my  feeble  judgment,  the  patriot  priest 
is  an  absurdity.  The  priest  should  belong  to  God 
alone.  I  did  not  choose  to  offer  to  Our  Father, 
although  he  accepts  everything,  the  broken  fragments 
of  my  heart  and  the  remains  of  my  will,  I  gave  my- 
self to  him  entire.  In  one  of  the  touching  theories  of 
the  heathen  religions,  the  victim  destined  for  sacri- 
fice to  the  false  gods  went  to  the  temple  flower- 
crowned.  That  custom  always  appealed  to  me.  A 
sacrifice  is  nothing  without  grace.  My  life  is  simple 
and  devoid  of  the  slightest  touch  of  romance;  if  you 
desire  a  full  confession,  I  will  tell  you  all.  My  family 
is  in  more  than  easy  circumstances,  almost  rich. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  147 

My  father,  the  sole  artisan  of  his  fortune,  is  a  stern, 
inflexible  man;  he  treats  his  wife  and  his  children  as 
he  treats  himself.  I  never  detected  the  slightest 
approach  to  a  smile  upon  his  lips.  His  iron  hand, 
his  bronze  face,  his  gloomy  and  fitful  energy,  re- 
pressed us  all,  wife,  children,  clerks,  and  servants, 
beneath  a  savage  despotism.  I  might — I  speak  for 
myself  alone — have  become  reconciled  to  that  life,  if 
the  power  that  oppressed  us  had  been  even  and 
regular  in  its  action;  but  it  was  moody  and  variable, 
and  the  alternations  were  intolerable.  We  never 
knew  whether  we  were  doing  right  or  were  at  fault, 
and  the  horrible  suspense  that  resulted  from  that 
uncertainty  is  unendurable  in  domestic  life.  Under 
such  circumstances  one  prefers  to  be  in  the  street 
rather  than  at  home.  If  I  had  been  alone  in  the 
house,  I  would  have  endured  anything  from  my 
father  without  a  murmur;  but  my  heart  was  torn 
by  the  poignant  grief  that  gave  no  respite  to  a 
mother  whom  I  passionately  loved,  whose  tears, 
when  I  surprised  her  weeping,  threw  me  into  fits  of 
rage  in  which  I  lost  control  of  my  reason.  The  time 
that  I  passed  at  school,  usually  a  period  of  unhappi- 
ness  and  hard  labor  to  children,  was  like  an  age  of 
gold  to  me.  I  dreaded  holidays.  My  mother  was 
happy  when  I  came  home.  When  I  had  finished  my 
schooling,  when  I  was  obliged  to  return  to  the  pater- 
nal roof  and  become  a  clerk  for  my  father,  I  found  it 
impossible  to  remain  there  longer  than  a  few  months: 
my  reason,  led  astray  by  the  mad  impulses  of  youth, 
might  give  way.  One  gloomy  autumn  evening,  as  I 


148  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

walked  with  my  mother  along  Boulevard  de  Bourdon, 
then  one  of  the  dreariest  spots  in  Paris,  I  discharged 
my  heart  into  hers,  and  told  her  that  I  saw  no  possi- 
ble life  for  myself,  except  in  the  Church.  My  in- 
clinations, my  ideas,  my  very  loves  were  certain  to 
be  thwarted  so  long  as  my  father  lived.  He  would 
be  compelled  to  respect  me  beneath  the  priest's  cas- 
sock, so  that  I  could  in  that  way  become  the  pro- 
tector of  my  family  on  certain  occasions.  My  mother 
wept  bitterly.  Just  at  that  time,  my  elder  brother, 
who  afterwards  became  a  general  and  was  killed  at 
Leipsic,  enlisted  as  a  simple  soldier,  for  the  same 
reasons  which  decided  my  calling.  1  pointed  out  to 
my  mother,  as  a  means  of  providing  for  her  own 
well-being,  that  she  must  select  a  son-in-law  of 
determined  character  and  marry  my  sister  to  him  as 
soon  as  she  was  old  enough  to  be  settled  in  life;  and 
that  she  could  make  her  home  with  that  newly- 
established  household.  Thus,  on  the  pretext  of 
evading  the  conscription  without  cost  to  my  father, 
I  entered  the  seminary  of  Saint-Sulpice  in  1807,  a* 
the  age  of  nineteen,  declaring  my  vocation  to  the 
priesthood.  In  those  famous  old  buildings  I  found 
peace  and  happiness,  disturbed  only  by  the  presumed 
suffering  of  my  mother  and  sister;  their  domestic 
sorrows  evidently  increased,  for  whenever  they 
saw  me  they  encouraged  my  resolution.  Initiated, 
perhaps,  by  my  past  afflictions  into  the  secrets  of 
charity,  as  defined  by  the  great  Saint  Paul  in  his  ador- 
able Epistle,  I  determined  to  heal  the  wounds  of  the 
poor  in  some  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  earth,  and 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  149 

to  prove  by  my  example,  if  God  should  vouchsafe  to 
bless  my  efforts,  that  the  Catholic  religion,  in  its 
work  among  mankind,  is  the  only  true,  the  only 
noble  and  worthy  civilizing  power.  During  the  last 
days  of  my  diaconate,  the  divine  grace  enlightened 
me.  I  freely  forgave  my  father,  in  whom  I  saw 
the  instrument  of  my  destiny.  Notwithstanding 
a  long  and  loving  letter,  in  which  I  explained 
everything,  pointing  to  the  marks  of  God's  finger 
on  every  side,  my  mother  shed  many  tears  when 
she  saw  my  hair  fall  beneath  the  scissors  of  the 
Church;  she  knew  how  many  pleasures  I  renounced, 
but  did  not  know  to  what  glorious  achievements  I 
secretly  aspired.  Women  are  so  affectionate!  When 
1  belonged  to  God,  I  experienced  unbounded  peace  of 
mind,  I  felt  neither  the  wants  nor  the  vanities  nor 
the  anxieties  concerning  property  that  disturb  the 
tranquillity  of  so  many  men.  I  believed  that  Provi- 
dence would  take  care  of  me  as  something  of  its  own. 
I  entered  a  world  whence  fear  is  banished,  where  the 
future  is  certain,  and  where  everything  is  the  work 
of  a  divine  hand,  even  the  silence.  That  tranquillity 
is  one  of  the  benefits  of  grace.  My  mother  could 
not  conceive  that  a  man  may  marry  a  church;  never- 
theless, when  she  saw  me  with  a  serene  brow  and 
a  happy  expression,  she  was  happy.  After  being 
ordained,  I  came  to  the  Limousin  to  see  one  of  my 
father's  relatives,  who,  by  chance,  mentioned  the 
condition  of  the  canton  of  Montegnac.  A  thought 
burst  upon  my  mind  like  a  brilliant  light,  and  said  to 
me:  *  There  is  your  vineyard!'  And  I  came  here. 


150  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

So,  monsieur,  my  story  is  quite  simple  and  devoid  of 
interest,  as  you  see." 

At  that  moment,  Limoges  appeared  in  the  rays  of 
the  setting  sun.  At  the  sight,  the  two  women  could 
not  restrain  their  tears. 

The  young  man  whom  those  two  different  forms 
of  affection  were  about  to  seek,  and  who  aroused 
so  much  ingenuous  curiosity,  so  much  hypocritical 
compassion  and  eager  solicitude,  lay  upon  a  prison 
pallet,  in  the  cell  set  apart  for  men  condemned  to 
death.  A  spy  was  on  guard  at  the  door  to  catch 
any  words  that  might  escape  him,  either  in  his 
sleep,  or  in  his  paroxysms  of  rage,  so  determined 
was  the  law  to  exhaust  all  human  means  to  dis- 
cover Jean-Francois  Tascheron's  accomplice  and 
recover  the  stolen  money. 

The  Des  Vanneaulx  had  aroused  the  interest  of 
the  police,  and  the  police  kept  watch  over  that 
absolute  silence.  When  the  man  set  to  watch  the 
prisoner's  mind  looked  at  him  through  a  loophole 
made  for  the  purpose,  he  found  him  always  in  the 
same  attitude,  buried  in  his  strait-jacket,  and 
with  his  head  secured  by  a  leather  strap,  since  he 
had  tried  to  tear  the  material  and  the  cords  with 
his  teeth.  Jean-Francois  stared  at  the  floor  with 
a  glaring,  desperate  eye,  an  eye  that  glowed  like 
a  coal  and  seemed  inflamed  by  the  over-abundance 
of  life  kindled  by  terrible  thoughts.  He  was  like 
a  living  statue  of  Prometheus  of  old,  the  thought 
of  some  joy  forever  lost  gnawed  at  his  heart;  so 
that,  when  the  second  avocat-general  went  to  see 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  151 

him,  that  magistrate  could  not  refrain  from  mani- 
festing his  amazement  at  his  unvarying  state.  At 
sight  of  every  living  being  who  was  introduced  into 
his  cell,  Jean-Francois  flew  into  a  frenzy  which 
went  beyond  all  that  the  previous  experience  of 
the  physicians  had  taught  them  to  expect  in  such 
cases.  As  soon  as  he  heard  the  key  turned  in 
the  lock  or  the  bolts  drawn  that  secured  the  iron 
door,  a  white  foam  gathered  upon  his  lips. 

Jean-Francois  was  at  this  time  twenty-five  years 
old;  he  was  small,  but  well-built.  His  coarse,  curly 
hair,  growing  well  down  over  his  forehead,  denoted 
great  energy  of  character.  His  eyes,  which  were 
a  clear,  luminous  light-brown  in  color,  were  too 
near  the  nose,  a  defect  that  made  him  resemble 
birds  of  prey.  He  had  the  round,  brown  face  that 
distinguishes  the  people  of  the  centre  of  France. 
One  feature  corroborated  an  observation  of  Lavater 
as  to  people  predestined  to  commit  murder;  his  front 
teeth  overlapped.  Nevertheless,  his  face  betokened 
probity  and  childlike  moral  innocence:  so  that  it  did 
not  seem  strange  that  a  woman  should  have  loved 
him  passionately.  He  had  a  pleasant  mouth,  em- 
bellished with  teeth  of  ivory  whiteness.  The  red 
of  his  lips  was  noticeable  by  reason  of  that  tinge 
as  of  red  lead  which  indicates  restrained  ferocity, 
and  which,  in  many  men,  finds  a  free  field  in  the 
lusts  of  the  flesh.  His  bearing  showed  no  trace  of 
any  of  the  bad  habits  to  which  mechanics  are  ad- 
dicted. To  the  eyes  of  the  women  who  followed 
the  trial,  it  seemed  evident  that  a  woman  had 


152  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

softened  those  fibres  accustomed  to  hard  work,  had 
ennobled  the  countenance  of  that  man  of  the  fields 
and  imparted  grace  to  his  person.  Women  recog- 
nize the  traces  of  love  in  a  man,  just  as  men  can 
judge,  in  the  case  of  a  woman,  whether,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  love  has  passed  that  way. 

That  evening,  Jean-Francois  heard  the  noise  made 
by  the  bolts  and  the  key  in  the  lock;  he  quickly 
turned  his  head  and  uttered  the  terrible  low  growl 
with  which  his  paroxysms  began;  but  he  trembled 
violently  when  the  beloved  faces  of  his  mother  and 
sister  appeared  in  the  soft  twilight,  and  behind  them 
the  face  of  the  cure  of  Montegnac. 

"  The  savages!  this  is  what  they  had  in  store  for 
me!"  he  exclaimed,  closing  his  eyes. 

Denise,  as  one  who  had  lived  in  prison,  was 
suspicious  of  everything;  doubtless  the  spy  had 
hidden,  meaning  to  return:  she  rushed  to  her 
brother's  side,  laid  her  face,  wet  with  tears, 
against  his,  and  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  will  listen  to  what  we 
say?" 

"  Otherwise,  they  wouldn't  have  sent  you,"  he 
replied,  aloud.  "A  long  while  ago,  I  asked  as  a 
favor  not  to  see  any  of  my  family." 

"How  they  have  abused  him!"  said  the  mother 
to  the  cure.  "  My  poor  child!  my  poor  child!" 

She  fell  on  the  foot  of  the  pallet,  burying  her  face 
in  the  priest's  cassock,  as  he  stood  near  her. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  see  him  bound  and  tied  like 
this,  and  put  in  a  bag — " 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  153 

"  If  Jean  will  promise  to  be  quiet,  to  make  no 
attempt  on  his  life,  and  to  behave  properly  while 
we  are  with  him,"  said  the  cure,  "I  will  obtain 
permission  for  him  to  be  unbound;  but  the  slight- 
est departure  from  his  promise  will  fall  upon  me." 

"  I  feel  so  strongly  the  need  of  moving  my  arms 
as  I  please,  dear  Monsieur  Bonnet,"  said  the  con- 
demned man,  whose  eyes  were  wet  with  tears, 
"that  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  will  do  as  you 
wish." 

The  cure  left  the  cell,  the  jailer  came  in,  the 
strait-jacket  was  removed. 

"You  won't  kill  me  to-night,  eh?"  said  the 
jailer. 

Jean  made  no  reply. 

"  Poor  brother,"  said  Denise,  offering  him  a 
basket  which  had  been  carefully  inspected,  "  here 
are  some  of  the  things  you  like  best,  for  of  course 
they  feed  you  for  love  of  God!  " 

She  took  out  some  fruit  that  she  had  picked  as 
soon  as  she  had  learned  that  she  could  go  to  the 
prison,  and  a  cake  which  her  mother  had  taken 
from  the  table.  This  attention,  which  recalled  his 
younger  days,  his  sister's  voice  and  gestures,  his 
mother's  presence  and  the  cure's,  all  combined  to 
bring  about  a  reaction  in  Jean's  mental  condition: 
he  burst  into  tears. 

"Ah!  Denise,"  he  said,  "  I  haven't  had  a  single 
meal  in  six  months.  I  have  eaten  when  hunger 
drove  me  to  it,  that's  all!  " 

The  mother  and  daughter  went  in  and  out  of  the 


154  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

cell.  Animated  by  the  spirit  which  leads  all  women 
to  attend  to  the  comfort  of  men,  they  ended  by  pro- 
viding their  poor  boy  with  a  hearty  supper.  They 
had  assistance:  orders  had  been  given  to  aid  them  in 
every  way  consistent  with  the  prisoner's  safe-keep- 
ing. The  Des  Vanneaulx  had  had  the  melancholy 
courage  to  contribute  to  the  well-being  of  the  man 
from  whom  they  still  hoped  to  obtain  their  inherit- 
ance. Thus  Jean  had  one  last  gleam  of  the  joys  of 
domestic  life,  joys  made  sad  by  the  tinge  of  gloom 
spread  over  them  by  the  circumstances. 

"  Is  my  appeal  rejected?"  he  said  to  Monsieur 
Bonnet. 

"  Yes,  my  child.  It  only  remains  for  you  now  to 
die  in  a  manner  befitting  a  Christian.  This  life  is 
nothing  in  comparison  with  the  life  that  awaits  you; 
you  must  think  of  your  eternal  welfare.  You  can 
pay  your  debt  by  letting  them  have  your  life,  but 
God  is  not  content  with  so  little." 

"  Let  them  have  my  life? — Ah!  you  do  not  know 
all  that  I  must  leave!" 

Denise  glanced  at  her  brother  as  if  to  say  to  him 
that,  even  in  religious  matters,  prudence  is  essen- 
tial. 

"Let  us  not  speak  of  that,"  he  said,  eating  fruit 
with  an  avidity  that  denoted  an  inward  fire  of  great 
intensity.  "  When  must  I — ?" 

"  No,  do  not  speak  of  that  again  in  my  presence!" 
exclaimed  the  mother. 

"  But  I  should  be  more  easy  in  my  mind,"  he  said 
in  an  undertone  to  the  cure. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  155 

"Still  the  same  disposition!"  cried  Monsieur 
Bonnet,  as  he  leaned  toward  him  to  say  in  his  ear: 
"  If  you  are  reconciled  to  God  to-night,  and  if  your 
repentance  justifies  me  in  giving  you  absolution,  it 
will  be  to-morrow. — We  have  made  great  progress 
already  by  calming  you,"  he  added  aloud. 

At  the  last  words,  Jean's  lips  turned  pale,  his  eyes 
contracted  violently,  and  something  like  the  first 
gust  of  a  storm  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Why  am  I  calm?"  he  asked. 

Luckily,  he  met  Denise's  tearful  eyes,  and  he 
recovered  his  self-control. 

"  Well,  you  are  the  only  one  I  can  listen  to,"  he 
said  to  the  cure.  "  Well  they  knew  the  only  way 
in  which  they  could  conquer  me!" 

He  threw  himself  upon  his  mother's  bosom. 

"Listen,  my  son,"  said  his  mother,  through  her 
tears;  "  dear  Monsieur  Bonnet  risks  his  own  life  by 
undertaking  to  lead  you — " 

She  hesitated,  then  added: 

"  To  everlasting  life." 

Then  she  kissed  Jean's  head  and  held  it  against 
her  heart  for  several  moments. 

"He  will  go  with  me?"  asked  Jean,  looking  at 
the  cure,  who  took  it  upon  himself  to  answer  by 
inclining  his  head. — "  Very  well,  I  will  listen  to  him, 
I  will  do  whatever  he  wishes." 

"Do  you  promise  me?"  said  Denise;  "for  the 
salvation  of  your  soul  is  what  we  all  long  for.  Do 
you  want  it  to  be  said  in  Limoges  and  all  over  the 
province  that  a  Tascheron  couldn't  die  like  a  man? 


156  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Think  that  all  you  lose  here  you  will  find  again  in 
heaven,  where  pardoned  souls  are  reunited." 

That  superhuman  effort  parched  the  heroic  girl's 
throat.  She  followed  her  mother's  example,  she 
held  her  peace,  but  she  had  triumphed.  The  crim- 
inal, frantic  hitherto  at  the  thought  of  having  his 
happiness  snatched  from  him  by  the  law,  felt  an 
involuntary  thrill  at  the  sublime  Catholic  idea  so 
artlessly  expressed  by  his  sister.  All  women,  even 
a  young  peasant  like  Denise,  can,  at  need,  perform 
such  delicate  tasks;  do  they  not  all  love  to  think  of 
love  as  eternal  ?  Denise  had  touched  a  very  sensitive 
chord.  Awakened  pride  aroused  the  other  virtues, 
frozen  by  so  much  misery  and  struck  dumb  by 
despair.  Jean  took  his  sister's  hand,  kissed  it,  and 
pressed  it  to  his  heart  in  a  profoundly  significant 
manner:  he  held  it  gently  and  powerfully  at  the 
same  time. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I  must  give  up  everything! 
Here  are  the  last  heart-beat  and  the  last  thought, 
Denise;  take  them!" 

And  he  bestowed  upon  her  one  of  those  glances 
by  which,  in  great  crises,  man  tries  to  impress  an 
image  of  his  heart  upon  another  heart. 

Those  words,  that  thought,  were  in  themselves 
a  whole  testament.  All  those  unspoken  legacies, 
which  were  to  be  as  faithfully  transmitted  as  they 
had  been  trustfully  bequeathed,  were  understood  so 
well  by  the  mother,  the  sister,  Jean  himself,  and  the 
priest,  that  they  all  turned  away  from  one  another 
in  order  not  to  disclose  their  tears,  and  to  keep  their 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  157 

own  counsel  concerning  their  thoughts.  Those  few 
words  were  the  death-agony  of  a  passion,  the  fare- 
well of  a  loving  heart  to  the  fairest  earthly  things,  in 
anticipation  of  an  orthodox  renunciation.  Thus  did 
the  cure,  overpowered  by  the  majesty  of  all  great 
human  things,  even  those  that  are  criminal,  judge 
that  hidden  passion  by  the  magnitude  of  the  sin:  he 
raised  his  eyes  as  if  to  invoke  God's  forgiveness. 
There  were  made  manifest  the  touching  consolation 
and  the  infinite  tenderness  of  the  Catholic  religion, 
so  human  and  so  gentle  in  the  hand  that  descends 
even  to  man  to  explain  to  him  the  law  of  the 
superior  worlds,  so  divine,  and  so  awe-inspiring  in 
the  hand  that  it  holds  out  to  him  to  lead  him  to 
Heaven.  But  Denise  had  mysteriously  pointed  out 
to  the  cure  the  spot  where  the  rock  would  give  way, 
the  cleft  from  which  the  waters  of  repentance  would 
gush  forth.  Suddenly,  disturbed  anew  by  the  mem- 
ories they  thus  evoked,  Jean  uttered  the  blood- 
curdling cry  of  the  hyena  surprised  by  hunters. 

"  No,  no!"  he  cried,  falling  on  his  knees,  "  I  wish 
to  live.  Take  my  place,  mother,  give  me  your 
clothes,  I  shall  be  able  to  escape.  Mercy!  mercy! 
Go  to  the  king,  tell  him — " 

He  stopped,  uttered  a  horrible  roar,  and  clung  to 
the  cure's  cassock. 

"Go,"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet  in  an  undertone  to 
the  two  heart-broken  women. 

Jean  heard  the  words;  he  raised  his  head,  looked 
at  his  mother  and  his  sister,  and  kissed  their  feet. 

"  Let  us  say  adieu,  do  not  come  again;  leave  me 


158  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

alone  with  Monsieur  Bonnet,  have  no  further  anx- 
iety about  me,"  he  said  to  them,  straining  them  to 
his  heart  in  an  embrace  in  which  he  seemed  to  put 
his  whole  life. 

"  How  can  people  help  dying  of  such  grief?"  said 
Denise  to  her  mother,  as  they  passed  through  the 
wicket. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  when 
this  separation  took  place.  At  the  door  of  the 
prison  the  two  women  found  Abbe  de  Rastignac, 
who  asked  them  concerning  the  prisoner. 

"  He  will  certainly  be  reconciled  to  God,"  said 
Denise.  "  If  repentance  has  not  already  come,  it  is 
very  near." 

A  few  moments  later  the  bishop  was  informed 
that  the  clergy  would  triumph  on  that  occasion,  and 
that  the  condemned  man  would  go  to  his  doom  in 
the  most  edifying,  religious  frame  of  mind.  Mon- 
seigneur — the  procureur-general  was  with  him — 
expressed  a  wish  to  see  the  cure.  Monsieur  Bonnet 
did  not  appear  until  midnight.  Abbe  Gabriel,  who 
went  back  and  forth  many  times  from  the  bishop's 
palace  to  the  jail,  thought  it  best  to  take  the  cure  in 
the  bishop's  carriage,  for  the  poor  priest  was  in  a 
state  of  prostration  which  deprived  him  of  the  use  of 
his  legs.  The  prospect  of  the  hard  day  he  was  to 
have  on  the  morrow,  and  the  secret  struggles  he 
had  witnessed,  the  spectacle  of  the  full  repentance 
to  which  his  long-rebellious  lamb  had  come  at  last, 
when  the  vast  scheme  of  eternity  was  made  clear 
to  him — all  combined  to  exhaust  Monsieur  Bonnet, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  159 

whose  nervous,  magnetic  nature  readily  took  to 
itself  a  full  share  in  another's  miseries.  Hearts  like 
that  noble  heart  espouse  so  eagerly  the  impressions, 
the  wretchedness,  the  passions,  the  suffering  of 
those  in  whom  they  are  interested,  that  they  really 
feel  them,  but  in  a  horrible  way,  in  that  they  are 
able  to  measure  their  extent,  which  escapes  those 
who  are  blinded  by  intensity  of  passion  or  by  par- 
oxysms of  grief.  In  that  respect,  a  priest  like  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  is  an  artist  who  feels,  instead  of  being 
an  artist  who  passes  judgment.  When  the  cure 
found  himself  in  the  bishop's  salon,  surrounded  by 
the  two  vicars-general,  Abbe  de  Rastignac,  Mon- 
sieur de  Granville,  and  the  procureur-general,  he 
thought  that  he  could  see  that  they  expected  some 
information  from  him. 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  the  bishop,  "  have  you 
obtained  any  disclosures  which  you  can  entrust  to 
the  officers  of  the  law,  without  proving  false  to  your 
duties?" 

"  Monseigneur,  before  giving  absolution  to  that 
poor  wandering  child,  I  not  only  waited  until  his 
repentance  was  as  sincere  and  complete  as  the 
Church  could  wish,  but  I  demanded  that  the  money 
should  be  restored." 

"The  matter  of  restitution,"  said  the  procureur- 
general,  "  is  what  has  brought  me  to  Monseigneur 's 
house;  it  must  be  made  in  such  way  as  to  throw 
some  light  upon  the  unknown  parties  to  this  affair. 
There  certainly  were  accomplices — " 

"The   interests   of  human  justice,"  replied  the 


160  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

cure,  "are  not  the  motives  of  my  action.  I  do  not 
know  where  or  how  restitution  will  be  made,  but 
made  it  will  be.  By  calling  me  to  one  of  my  par- 
ishioners, Monseigneur  placed  me  in  a  position  where 
I  am  acting  under  the  conditions  which  give  to 
cures  within  their  parishes  the  same  rights  that 
Monseigneur  exercises  in  his  diocese,  except  in  cases 
of  ecclesiastical  discipline  and  obedience." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  bishop.  "  But  what  is  de- 
sired is  to  obtain  from  the  condemned  man  a  volun- 
tary confession  in  the  presence  of  the  law." 

"My  mission  is  to  bring  a  soul  back  to  God," 
replied  Monsieur  Bonnet. 

Monsieur  de  Grancour  shrugged  his  shoulders 
slightly,  but  Abbe  Dutheil  nodded  his  head  as  a 
sign  of  approbation. 

"  Doubtless,  Tascheron  wishes  to  shield  some- 
one whose  identity  the  restitution  would  disclose?" 
said  the  procureur-general. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  cure,  "I  know  abso- 
lutely nothing  which  would  tend  to  contradict  or 
confirm  your  hypothesis.  In  any  event,  the  se- 
crecy of  the  confessional  is  inviolable." 

"  But  the  restitution  will  take  place?"  inquired 
the  man  of  law. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  the  man  of  God. 

"  That  is  enough  for  me,"  said  the  procureur- 
general,  who  relied  upon  the  skill  of  the  police  to 
obtain  information;  as  if  passion  and  personal  in- 
terest were  not  more  clever  than  all  the  police  on 
earth. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  161 

Two  days  later,  on  a  market-day,  Jean-Francois 
Tascheron  was  taken  to  his  doom,  as  all  the  pious 
and  politic  souls  in  the  town  desired.  A  pattern  of 
modesty  and  piety,  he  fervently  kissed  a  crucifix 
which  Monsieur  Bonnet  held  in  a  trembling  hand. 
The  unhappy  wretch  was  carefully  scrutinized,  his 
glances  were  watched  by  every  eye:  would  he  look 
at  some  one  in  the  crowd,  or  at  some  house?  His 
discretion  was  absolute,  inviolable.  He  died  the 
death  of  a  Christian,  repentant  and  absolved  from 
his  sins. 

The  poor  cure  of  Montegnac  was  taken  away  un- 
conscious from  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  although  he 
had  not  seen  the  fatal  machine. 

During  the  following  night,  three  leagues  from 
Limoges,  at  a  point  on  the  road  where  the  plain 
was  narrow  and  deserted,  Denise,  although  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue  and  grief,  begged  her  father 
to  allow  her  to  return  to  Limoges  with  Louis-Marie 
Tascheron,  one  of  her  brothers. 

"What  more  do  you  want  to  do  in  that  town?" 
demanded  the  father,  sharply,  wrinkling  his  fore- 
head and  contracting  his  eyebrows. 

"Father,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "not  only 
must  we  pay  the  lawyer  who  defended  him,  but  we 
must  restore  the  money  he  hid." 

"True,"  said  the  upright  man,  putting  his  hand 
in  a  leather  bag  which  he  carried  about  him. 

"No,  no,"  said  Denise,.  "he  is  no  longer  your 
son.      It  is  not  for  those  who  cursed  him,  but  for 
those  who  blessed  him,  to  pay  the  lawyer." 
ii 


162  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

i 

"We  will  wait  for  you  at  Havre,"  said  the 
father. 

Denise  and  her  brother  re-entered  the  town,  un- 
seen, before  dawn.  When,  subsequently,  the  police 
learned  of  their  return,  they  could  never  find  out 
where  they  had  concealed  themselves.  About  four 
o'clock,  Denise  and  her  brother  went  up  to  the  upper 
town,  keeping  close  to  the  walls.  The  poor  girl 
dared  not  raise  her  eyes  for  fear  of  meeting  other 
eyes  that  had  seen  her  brother's  head  fall.  After 
they  had  sought  out  the  cure,  who,  notwithstanding 
his  feeble  condition,  consented  to  act  as  Denise's 
father  and  protector  on  this  occasion,  they  went  to 
the  house  of  the  advocate,  who  lived  on  Rue  de  la 
Comedie. 

"  Good  morning,  my  poor  children,"  said  the  ad- 
vocate, saluting  Monsieur  Bonnet;  "  in  what  way 
can  I  serve  you?  You  wish,  perhaps,  to  employ  me 
to  demand  your  brother's  body?" 

"  No,  monsieur,"  said  Denise,  weeping  at  that 
thought,  which  had  not  occurred  to  her;  "  I  have 
come  to  pay  our  debt  to  you,  so  far  as  money  can 
pay  an  everlasting  debt." 

"Be  seated,"  said  the  advocate,  noticing  that 
Denise  and  the  cure  remained  standing. 

Denise  turned  and  took  from  her  dress  two  five- 
hundred-franc  notes,  which  were  pinned  to  her 
chemise,  and  sat  down  after  handing  them  to  her 
brother's  defender.  The  cure  cast  upon  the  advo- 
cate a  flashing  glance  which  soon  became  humid. 

"Keep  the  money  for  yourself,  my  poor  girl," 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  163 

said  the  advocate;  "the  rich  do  not  pay  so  hand- 
somely for  a  lost  cause." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Denise,  "it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  do  as  you  say." 

"Why,  does  not  the  money  come  from  you?" 
inquired  the  advocate,  eagerly. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said,  looking  at  Monsieur 
Bonnet,  to  know  if  God  would  not  be  offended  at 
the  falsehood. 

The  cure  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  floor. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  advocate,  retaining  one 
five-hundred-franc  note  and  handing  the  other  to  the 
cure,  "I  will  divide  with  the  poor. — Now,  Denise, 
exchange  this,  which  certainly  is  mine,"  he  said, 
offering  her  the  other  note,  "for  your  velvet  ribbon 
and  your  gold  cross.  I  will  hang  the  cross  on  my 
mantel,  in  memory  of  the  purest  and  best  maiden's 
heart  that  I  shall  ever  meet  in  my  professional  life." 

"I  will  give  it  to  you  for  nothing,"  cried  Denise, 
taking  off  the  cross  and  handing  it  to  him. 

"Very  well,  monsieur,"  said  the  cure,  "I  accept 
the  five  hundred  francs  to  be  used  in  exhuming  the 
poor  child's  body  and  carrying  it  to  the  cemetery  at 
Montegnac.  Surely  God  has  forgiven  him,  and  Jean 
will  be  allowed  to  rise  with  all  my  flock  on  the  great 
day  when  the  just  and  the  repentant  are  summoned 
to  sit  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  advocate. 

He  took  Denise's  hand  and  drew  her  toward  him 
to  kiss  her  forehead;  but  that  movement  had  another 
object. 


164  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"My  child,1'  he  said  to  her,  "no  one  has  five- 
hundred-franc  notes  at  Montegnac;  they  are  decid- 
edly scarce  at  Limoges,  where  no  one  takes  them 
except  at  a  discount;  so  that  this  money  was  given 
to  you — you  will  not  tell  me  by  whom,  nor  do  I  ask 
you,  but  listen  to  me:  if  you  have  anything  more  to 
do  in  this  town  with  reference  to  your  brother,  be- 
ware! Monsieur  Bonnet  and  your  brother  and  your- 
self will  be  watched  by  spies.  They  know  that 
your  family  has  gone.  When  they  find  out  that 
you  are  here,  you  will  be  surrounded  without  sus- 
pecting it." 

"Alas!"  she  said,  "I  have  nothing  more  to  do 
here!" 

"She  will  be  prudent,"  said  the  advocate  to  him- 
self as  he  showed  her  out.  "  She  is  warned,  let  her 
look  to  herself." 

In  the  last  days  of  September,  which  were  as 
warm  as  midsummer,  the  bishop  invited  the  town 
authorities  to  dinner.  Among  the  guests  were  the 
king's  attorney  and  the  avocat-general.  The  party 
was  enlivened  by  divers  discussions,  which  prolonged 
it  unduly.  There  were  whist  and  backgammon,  the 
game  that  bishops  affect.  About  eleven  o'clock  the 
king's  attorney  was  standing  on  the  upper  terrace. 
From  the  spot  where  he  stood  he  could  see  a  light  on 
that  island,  which  on  a  certain  evening  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  Abbe  Gabriel  and  the  bishop, — 
Veronique's  island,  in  fact;  that  light  reminded  him 
of  the  inexplicable  mystery  surrounding  the  crime 
committed  by  Tascheron.  As  he  could  conceive  no 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  165 

reason  why  a  fire  should  be  burning  on  the  Vienne 
at  that  hour,  the  thought  that  had  struck  the  bishop 
and  his  secretary  flashed  through  his  mind  with  a 
gleam  as  sudden  as  that  of  the  light  shining  in  the 
distance. 

"We  have  all  been  great  fools!"  he  cried;  "but 
we  have  the  accomplices." 

He  returned  to  the  salon,  sought  out  Monsieur  de 
Granville,  and  whispered  a  few  words  to  him,  where- 
upon they  both  disappeared;  but  Abbe  de  Rastignac 
followed  them  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  watched  them 
go  out,  saw  that  they  went  toward  the  terrace,  and 
noticed  the  fire  on  the  edge  of  the  island. 

"  She  is  lost!"  he  thought. 

The  messengers  of  justice  arrived  too  late.  Denise 
and  Louis-Marie,  whom  Jean  had  taught  to  dive, 
were,  in  fact,  on  the  shore  of  the  Vienne,  at  a  spot 
Jean  had  described  to  them;  but  Louis-Marie  had 
already  dived  four  times,  and  each  time  he  had 
brought  back  twenty  thousand  francs  in  gold.  The 
first  sum  was  in  a  silk  handkerchief  tied  together  by 
the  four  corners.  That  handkerchief,  after  being 
wrung  out,  had  been  thrown  into  a  great  fire  of  dead 
wood,  which  they  had  lighted  beforehand.  Denise 
did  not  leave  the  fire  until  she  saw  that  the  handker- 
chief was  entirely  consumed.  The  second  wrapper 
was  a  shawl,  and  the  third  a  cambric  handkerchief. 
Just  as  she  was  tossing  the  fourth  wrapper  into 
the  fire,  the  gendarmes,  with  whom  was  a  commis- 
sioner of  police,  seized  that  important  piece  of  testi- 
mony, which  Denise  allowed  them  to  take  without 


166  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

manifesting  the  slightest  emotion.  It  was  a  hand- 
kerchief upon  which,  notwithstanding  the  length  of 
time  it  had  been  in  the  water,  there  were  some 
traces  of  blood.  Being  questioned  on  the  spot  as 
to  what  she  was  doing  there,  Denise  said  that  she 
had  taken  the  stolen  money  from  the  water,  follow- 
ing the  directions  given  by  her  brother;  the  commis- 
sioner asked  her  why  she  burned  the  wrappers,  she 
replied  that  she  was  carrying  out  one  of  the  condi- 
tions imposed  by  her  brother.  When  she  was  asked 
of  what  nature  the  wrappers  were,  she  replied  boldly 
and  with  perfect  truth: 

"A  silk  handkerchief,  a  cambric  handkerchief,  and 
a  shawl." 

The  handkerchief  that  had  been  seized  belonged 
to  her  brother. 

This  fishing  and  its  attendant  circumstances  made 
a  great  sensation  in  Limoges.  The  shawl  especially 
confirmed  the  prevailing  belief  that  Tascheron  had 
committed  his  crime  through  love. 

"He  still  shelters  her  after  his  death,"  said  a 
lady,  upon  being  informed  of  these  latest  disclosures, 
so  adroitly  rendered  of  no  avail. 

"  Perhaps  some  husband  in  Limoges  will  miss 
a  silk  handkerchief,  but  he  will  be  obliged  to 
hold  his  peace,"  said  the  procureur-general,  with  a 
smile. 

"Mistakes  in  the  matter  of  toilet  are  becoming 
so  compromising,  that  I  propose  to  look  over  my 
wardrobe  this  very  night,"  laughed  old  Madame 
Ferret. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  167 

"  Whose  are  the  pretty  little  feet  whose  imprints 
were  so  thoroughly  effaced?"  queried  Monsieur  de 
Granville. 

"Bah!  an  ugly  woman's,  perhaps,"  replied  the 
second  avocat-general. 

"  She  has  paid  dearly  for  her  sin!"  observed  Abbe 
de  Grancour. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  affair  proves?"  cried  the 
avocat-general.  "  It  shows  all  that  women  lost  in 
the  Revolution,  which  swept  away  social  distinc- 
tions. Such  passions  are  no  longer  met  with  except 
in  men  who  see  an  immense  distance  between  them- 
selves and  their  mistresses." 

"You  attribute  a  great  store  of  vanity  to  love," 
rejoined  Abbe  Dutheil. 

"What  does  Madame  Graslin  think?"  inquired 
the  prefect. 

"What  do  you  suppose  that  she  thinks?  She 
was  confined  during  the  execution,  as  she  prophe- 
sied to  me,  and  she  has  seen  no  one  since,  for  she  is 
dangerously  ill,"  replied  Monsieur  de  Granville. 

In  another  salon  in  Limoges  an  almost  comical 
scene  took  place.  The  friends  of  the  Des  Vanneaulx 
came  to  congratulate  them  on  the  restitution  of  their 
inheritance. 

"Ah!  they  ought  to  have  pardoned  that  poor 
man,"  said  Madame  des  Vanneaulx.  "  Love,  not 
selfish  greed,  was  what  drove  him  to  that  crime:  he 
was  neither  vicious  nor  wicked." 

"  He  acted  in  a  most  delicate  way,"  said  Monsieur 
des  Vanneaulx,  "  and,  //  /  knew  where  his  family  were, 


168  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

/  would  do  something  for  them.     They  are  excellent 
people,  those  Tascherons." 

When,  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1829,  Ma- 
dame Graslin  was  able  to  leave  her  bed  after  the 
long  illness  that  followed  her  confinement  and  com- 
pelled her  to  remain  in  absolute  retirement  and  in 
bed,  she  heard  her  husband  speak  of  a  transaction 
of  considerable  magnitude,  which  he  had  in  contem- 
plation. The  Navarreins  family  were  thinking  of 
selling  the  forest  of  Montegnac  and  the  wild  lands 
which  they  possessed  in  the  vicinity.  Graslin  had 
not  as  yet  executed  the  clause  in  his  marriage-con- 
tract which  bound  him  to  invest  his  wife's  dowry  in 
real  estate;  he  had  preferred  to  employ  the  money 
in  his  banking  business,  and  had  already  doubled  it. 
Upon  hearing  the  subject  mentioned,  Veronique 
seemed  to  remember  the  name  of  Montegnac,  and 
she  requested  her  husband  to  carry  out  that  stipula- 
tion by  purchasing  the  Navarreins  estate  for  her. 
Monsieur  Graslin  was  very  desirous  to  see  Monsieur 
le  Cure  Bonnet,  in  order  to  obtain  some  information 
concerning  the  forest  and  the  outlying  lands  which 
the  Due  de  Navarreins  proposed  to  sell;  for  the 
duke  foresaw  the  terrible  struggle  which  the  Prince 
de  Polignac  was  making  ready  to  bring  about  be- 
tween liberalism  and  the  house  of  Bourbon,  and  he 
augured  very  ill  from  it;  so  that  he  was  one  of  the 
most  fearless  opponents  of  the  Coup  d'Etat.  The 
duke  had  sent  his  man  of  business  to  Limoges, 
authorizing  him  to  make  concessions  in  consideration 
of  a  handsome  sum  in  cash,  for  he  had  too  vivid  a 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  169 

recollection  of  the  Revolution  of  1789,  not  to  turn  to 
advantage  the  lessons  it  had  taught  all  the  aristoc- 
racy. That  man  of  business  had  been  fencing  for 
a  month  with  Graslin,  the  shrewdest  fox  in  the 
Limousin,  the  only  man  who  was  pointed  to  by  one 
and  all  as  being  in  a  position  to  purchase  and  pay 
cash  for  a  considerable  estate. 

Upon  receipt  of  a  line  from  Abbe  Dutheil,  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  went  at  once  to  Limoges  and  called  at 
the  hotel  Graslin.  Veronique  wished  to  invite  the 
cure  to  dine  with  her;  but  the  banker  did  not  allow 
him  to  go  up  to  his  wife's  apartments  until  he  had 
talked  with  him  for  an  hour  in  his  study,  and  had 
obtained  information  which  was  so  satisfactory  to 
him,  that  he  at  once  concluded  the  purchase  of  the 
forest  and  domains  of  Montegnac  for  five  hundred 
thousand  francs.  He  acquiesced  in  his  wife's  wish, 
stipulating  that  that  purchase  and  all  others  con- 
nected with  it  were  made  in  pursuance  of  the  clause 
in  his  marriage-contract  relating  to  the  investment 
of  the  dowry.  Graslin  made  this  arrangement  the 
more  willingly  because  that  act  of  probity  cost  him 
nothing.  At  the  time  when  the  negotiations  were 
concluded,  the  property  consisted  of  the  forest  of 
Montegnac,  which  contained  about  thirty  thousand 
acres  of  wild  land,  the  ruins  of  the  chateau,  the 
gardens,  and  about  five  hundred  acres  in  the  un- 
tilled  plain  before  Montegnac.  Graslin  at  once 
made  several  purchases  to  cover  the  whole  of  the 
first  peak  of  the  mountains  of  La  Correze,  where 
the  so-called  forest  of  Montegnac  ends.  Since  the 


170  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

establishment  of  imposts,  the  Due  de  Navarreins  did 
not  receive  fifteen  thousand  francs  yearly  from  that 
estate,  formerly  one  of  the  richest  dependencies  in 
the  kingdom,  which  had  escaped  the  sale  ordered 
by  the  Convention  no  less  because  of  the  barrenness 
of  the  property  than  because  of  the  admitted  impos- 
sibility of  exploiting  it. 

When  the  cure  saw  the  woman  whose  name  he 
had  often  heard,  a  woman  celebrated  for  her  piety 
and  her  intellect,  he  could  not  restrain  a  gesture  of 
surprise.  Veronique  had  then  reached  the  third 
phase  of  her  life,  that  in  which  she  was  destined  to 
magnify  herself  by  the  practice  of  the  most  exalted 
virtues,  and  during  which  she  became  an  entirely 
different  woman.  To  the  Madonna  of  Raphael, 
shrouded  for  eleven  years  in  the  torn  cloak  of  the 
small-pox,  had  succeeded  the  noble,  beautiful,  im- 
passioned woman;  and  that  woman,  bereaved  by 
secret  suffering,  was  transformed  into  a  saint.  The 
face  had  a  yellowish  tinge  like  that  which  suffuses 
the  austere  faces  of  abbesses  renowned  for  their 
rigid  mortification  of  the  flesh.  The  chastened  tem- 
ples shone  like  gold.  The  lips  had  faded;  they  no 
longer  displayed  the  redness  of  the  open  pomegran- 
ate, but  the  cold  hues  of  the  Bengal  rose.  In  the 
corner  of  the  eyes,  near  the  nose,  grief  had  made 
two  pearly  spots  over  which  many  secret  tears  had 
rolled.  Tears  had  effaced  the  marks  of  the  small- 
pox and  worn  the  skin  smooth.  One's  curiosity 
was  invincibly  attracted  to  that  spot,  where  the  blue 
network  of  small  blood-vessels  throbbed  fiercely 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  171 

and  seemed  swollen  by  the  full  stream  of  blood  that 
hurried  thither,  as  if  to  supply  nourishment  for  her 
tears.  The  circle  of  the  eyes  alone  retained  the 
brown  tints,  which  had  become  black  below  the  eyes 
and  a  dark  brown  on  the  lids,  now  horribly  wrinkled. 
The  cheeks  were  hollow,  and  their  folds  indicated 
deep  and  serious  thought.  The  chin,  the  muscles 
of  which  were  covered  in  her  youth  by  an  abundance 
of  flesh,  had  grown  thin,  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
expression:  it  disclosed  an  uncompromising  rigidity 
in  religious  matters,  which  she  exercised  upon  her- 
self alone.  Veronique,  although  but  twenty-nine, 
was  obliged  to  have  a  vast  quantity  of  white  hair 
removed  from  her  head,  leaving  only  a  few  scat- 
tered locks;  her  confinement  had  destroyed  her 
hair,  formerly  one  of  her  loveliest  ornaments.  Her 
thinness  was  terrifying.  Notwithstanding  her  physi- 
cian's orders  to  the  contrary,  she  had  insisted  upon 
nursing  her  son.  The  physician  won  a  triumph  in 
the  town  when  all  the  changes  took  place  which  he 
had  predicted  in  case  she  should  disobey  his  orders. 

"You  see  what  result  a  single  confinement  may 
have  upon  a  woman!"  he  said.  "Of  course  she 
adores  her  child.  I  have  always  noticed  that 
mothers  love  their  children  in  proportion  to  what 
they  cost  them." 

But  Veronique's  withered  eyes  were  the  only 
feature  that  had  retained  their  youth:  the  deep  blue 
of  the  iris  emitted  a  flame  of  unearthly  brilliancy,  in 
which  life  seemed  to  have  taken  refuge  on  deserting 
that  cold  and  motionless  mask,  which  lighted  up, 


172  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

however,  with  a  kindly  expression  whenever  the 
welfare  of  her  neighbor  was  in  question.  So  it  was 
that  the  cure's  surprise  and  dismay  vanished  as  he 
explained  to  Madame  Graslin  all  the  good  that  a 
great  land-owner  might  effect  at  Montegnac,  by 
residing  there.  Veronique  became  beautiful  again 
for  a  moment,  as  her  face  was  illumined  by  the 
beams  of  an  unhoped-for  future. 

"I  will  go  there,"  she  said.  "  That  shall  be  my 
property.  I  will  obtain  some  funds  from  Monsieur 
Graslin  and  join  you  heartily  in  your  religious  work. 
Montegnac  shall  be  made  fertile,  we  will  find  water 
to  irrigate  your  uncultivated  plain.  Like  Moses,  you 
strike  a  rock,  and  tears  will  gush  forth!" 

The  cure  of  Montegnac,  when  questioned  concern- 
ing Madame  Graslin  by  his  friends  at  Limoges,  spoke 
of  her  as  a  saint. 

On  the  day  following  his  purchase,  Graslin  sent 
an  architect  to  Montegnac.  The  banker  proposed  to 
restore  the  chateau,  the  gardens,  the  terrace,  and 
the  park,  and  to  make  inroads  upon  the  forest  by 
felling  trees  and  ploughing,  and  he  set  about  the 
work  of  restoration  with  a  vainglorious  energy. 

Two  years  later,  Madame  Graslin  suffered  a  great 
misfortune.  In  August,  1830,  Graslin,  taken  by 
surprise  by  the  general  crash  in  commercial  and 
banking  circles,  was  carried  under  despite  his  pru- 
dence; he  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  failure,  or 
of  losing  a  fortune  of  three  millions  acquired  by  forty 
years  of  toil;  the  mental  disease  resulting  from  his 
anxiety  aggravated  the  inflammatory  trouble  that 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  173 

was  always  lurking  in  his  blood,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  take  to  his  bed.  Since  her  confinement,  Vero- 
nique's  affection  for  her  husband  had  developed 
wonderfully  and  had  overturned  all  the  hopes  of  her 
admirer,  Monsieur  de  Granville;  she  tried  to  save  her 
husband  by  her  watchful  care,  she  succeeded  only  in 
prolonging  his  agony  a  few  months;  but  that  delay 
was  very  useful  to  Grossetete,  who,  anticipating  his 
former  clerk's  demise,  obtained  from  him  the  informa- 
tion necessary  for  a  speedy  realization  of  the  credits 
of  the  firm. 

Graslin  died  in  April,  1831,  and  his  widow's 
despair  yielded  only  to  Christian  resignation.  Vero- 
nique's  first  thought  was  to  abandon  her  own  fortune 
to  the  creditors;  but  Monsieur  Graslin's  was  more 
than  sufficient  to  pay  them  all.  Two  months  later, 
upon  the  settlement  of  her  husband's  affairs,  which 
were  taken  in  charge  by  Grossetete,  Madame  Graslin 
was  left  with  the  Montegnac  estate  and  six  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  francs,  the  whole  of  her  private 
fortune;  thus  her  son's  name  was  without  stain  and 
Graslin  had  impaired  no  one's  property,  not  even 
his  wife's.  Francis  Graslin,  the  son,  had  about  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  of  his  own. 

Monsieur  de  Granville,  to  whom  Veronique's 
moral  grandeur  and  eminent  qualities  were  well 
known,  proposed  marriage  to  her;  but,  to  the 
amazement  of  all  Limoges,  Madame  Graslin  re- 
fused the  new  procureur-general,  on  the  pretext 
that  the  Church  frowned  upon  second  marriages. 
Grossetete,  who  was  a  man  of  great  good  sense 


174  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

and  of  very  keen  perception,  advised  Veronique  to 
invest  her  surplus  wealth  and  the  balance  of  Mon- 
sieur Graslin's  fortune  in  the  public  funds,  and  he 
at  once  effected  that  investment  for  her,  in  July, 
in  that  class  of  funds  which  could  be  purchased 
most  advantageously,  namely,  the  three  per  cents, 
then  selling  at  fifty.  Thus  Francis  had  six  thou- 
sand francs  a  year,  and  his  mother  about  forty 
thousand.  Veronique's  fortune  was  still  the  great- 
est in  the  department.  When  everything  was 
settled,  Madame  Graslin  made  known  her  project 
of  leaving  Limoges  to  take  up  her  abode  at  Mon- 
tegnac,  with  Monsieur  Bonnet.  She  sent  for  the 
cure  once  more,  in  order  to  consult  him  concerning 
the  work  he  had  undertaken  at  Montegnac,  in  which 
she  proposed  to  co-operate  with  him;  but  he  gener- 
ously strove  to  turn  her  from  that  resolution,  by 
proving  to  her  that  her  place  was  in  society. 

"  I  was  born  of  the  people  and  I  propose  to  re- 
turn to  the  people,"  she  replied. 

The  cure,  overflowing  with  affection  for  his  vil- 
lage, made  the  less  opposition  to  Madame  Graslin's 
vocation,  because  she  had  voluntarily  made  it  im- 
possible for  herself  to  remain  at  Limoges  by  con- 
veying the  hotel  Graslin  to  Grossetete,  who  took 
it  at  its  full  value,  to  reimburse  himself  for  the  sums 
he  had  advanced. 

On  the  day  of  her  departure,  late  in  the  month  of 
August,  1831,  Madame  Graslin's  friends  proposed  to 
accompany  her  outside  the  limits  of  the  town.  Some 
went  as  far  as  the  first  posting- station.  Veronique 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  175 

was  in  a  caliche  with  her  mother.  Abbe  Dutheil, 
who  had  been  recently  appointed  to  a  bishopric,  sat 
on  the  front  seat  of  the  carriage  with  old  Grossetete. 
As  they  drove  across  Place  d'Aine,  Veronique  ex- 
perienced a  violent  emotion:  her  face  contracted  so 
that  trie  play  of  the  muscles  could  be  seen;  she 
pressed  her  child  to  her  breast  with  a  convulsive 
movement  which  La  Sauviat  concealed  by  taking 
him  away  from  her  at  once,  for  the  old  mother 
seemed  to  have  anticipated  her  daughter's  emotion. 
Chance  willed  that  Madame  Graslin  should  pass  the 
spot  where  her  father's  house  once  stood:  she 
pressed  La  Sauviat's  hand  convulsively,  great  tears 
gathered  in  her  eyes  and  rolled  rapidly  down  her 
cheeks.  When  she  had  left  Limoges,  she  cast  a 
last  glance  behind,  and  seemed  to  experience  a 
joyful  sensation  which  was  observed  by  all  her 
friends.  When  the  procureur-general,  that  young 
man  of  twenty-five  whom  she  had  refused  to  take 
for  her  husband,  kissed  her  hand  with  an  earnest  ex- 
pression of  regret,  the  newly-created  bishop  noticed 
the  strange  phenomenon  of  the  black  pupil  of  Vero- 
nique's  eye  encroaching  upon  the  blue,  which  was 
reduced  to  a  narrow  circle.  The  eye  plainly  indi- 
cated a  violent  internal  revolution. 

"  I  shall  never  see  him  again!"  she  whispered  to 
her  mother,  who  received  that  communication  with- 
out betraying  the  slightest  emotion  upon  her  old 
face. 

Grossetete  was  watching  La  Sauviat  at  that  mo- 
ment from  his  seat  opposite  her;  but,  with  all  his 


176  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

shrewdness,  the  former  banker  could  not  divine  the 
hatred  that  Veronique  had  conceived  for  that  magis- 
trate, although  he  was  received  at  her  house.  In 
that  direction,  churchmen  possess  a  much  more 
extensive  perspicacity  than  other  men;  so  the 
bishop  surprised  Veronique  by  a  genuine  priestly 
glance. 

"You  will  regret  nothing  that  you  leave  behind 
at  Limoges?"  said  monseigneur  to  Madame  Graslin. 

"You  are  about  to  leave  the  town,"  she  an- 
swered.— "And  monsieur  will  go  there  much  less 
frequently  now,"  she  added,  smiling  at  Grossete*te, 
who  was  just  saying  farewell  to  her. 

The  bishop  escorted  Veronique  to  Montegnac. 

"  I  ought  to  wear  mourning  over  this  road!"  she 
said  in  her  mother's  ear,  as  they  walked  up  the  hill 
of  Saint-Leonard. 

The  old  woman,  with  her  coarse,  wrinkled  face, 
put  her  finger  to  her  lips  as  she  pointed  to  the 
bishop,  who  was  examining  the  child  with  alarming 
attention.  That  gesture,  but,  above  all,  the  prelate's 
luminous  gaze,  caused  Madame  Graslin  a  sort  of 
shudder.  At  the  sight  of  the  vast  moors  which  lay 
like  a  gray  sheet  around  Montegnac,  Veronique's 
eyes  lost  their  fire:  she  became  melancholy.  At 
that  moment  she  spied  the  cure  coming  to  meet  her, 
and  took  him  into  her  carriage. 

"  There  are  your  estates,  madame,"  said  Monsieur 
Bonnet,  pointing  to  the  uncultivated  moor. 


IV 


MADAME  GRASLIN  AT  MONTEGNAC 

In  a  few  moments  the  village  of  Montegnac  and  its 
hill,  where  the  eye  was  attracted  by  the  new  build- 
ings, came  in  sight,  gilded  by  the  setting  sun  and 
instinct  with  the  poesy  due  to  the  contrast  produced 
by  that  pretty  bit  of  nature,  placed  there  like  an 
oasis  in  the  desert.  Madame  Graslin's  eyes  filled 
with  tears;  the  cure  pointed  to  a  broad  white  track, 
like  a  scar,  on  the  mountain  side. 

"  That  is  what  my  parishioners  have  done  to  tes- 
tify their  gratitude  to  their  chatelaine,"  he  said,  as 
he  pointed  to  that  rough  road.  "We  can  go  up  to 
the  chateau  in  the  carriage.  That  road  has  been 
built  without  costing  you  a  sou;  in  two  months  we 
will  have  it  lined  with  trees.  Monseigneur  can 
conceive  the  trouble  and  toil  and  devotion  neces- 
sary to  effect  such  a  change." 

"  They  have  done  that!"  exclaimed  the  bishop. 

"And  refuse  to  accept  anything  for  it,  monsei- 
gneur.  The  very  poorest  have  lent  a  hand,  knowing 
that  one  was  coming  who  would  be  a  mother  to 
them." 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  travellers  saw  all 

12  (I77) 


1/8  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

the  inhabitants  assembled;  they  discharged  a  few 
bombs  and  guns;  then  the  two  prettiest  girls  came 
forward,  dressed  in  white,  and  offered  Madame 
Graslin  flowers  and  fruit. 

"  To  think  of  receiving  such  a  welcome  to  this 
village!"  she  cried,  grasping  Monsieur  Bonnet's  hand 
as  if  she  were  falling  over  the  brink  of  a  precipice. 

The  crowd  accompanied  the  carriage  as  far  as  the 
main  entrance.  From  there,  Madame  Graslin  could 
see  her  chateau,  of  which  thus  far  she  had  seen 
only  the  massive  outlines.  At  the  sight,  she  felt 
something  like  a  thrill  of  terror  at  the  magnificence 
of  her  estate.  Stone  is  scarce  in  the  province,  the 
granite  that  is  found  in  the  mountains  is  exceedingly 
difficult  to  quarry:  therefore  the  architect  to  whom 
Graslin  had  entrusted  the  rebuilding  of  the  chateau 
had  made  brick  the  principal  element  in  the  vast 
structure;  and  it  was  the  more  economical  because 
the  forest  of  Montegnac  furnished  both  the  clay  and 
wood  necessary  for  brickmaking.  The  timber  and 
the  stone  for  all  the  buildings  also  came  from  the 
forest.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  savings  effected  in 
that  way,  Graslin  would  have  ruined  himself.  The 
greater  part  of  the  outlay  had  consisted  in  transpor- 
tation of  material,  in  preparing  it  for  use,  and  in 
wages.  Thus  the  money  had  remained  in  the  vil- 
lage and  had  revivified  it.  At  the  first  glance,  and 
from  a  distance,  the  chateau  seems  to  be  an  enor- 
mous red  mass  striped  with  threads  of  black,  repre- 
senting the  joints,  and  bordered  with  gray  lines,  for 
the  window  and  door  frames,  the  entablatures,  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  179 

corners,  and  the  stone  courses  at  each  floor  are  of 
granite,  cut  in  diamond  shape.  The  courtyard, 
which  is  oval  in  shape  and  sloping,  like  that  of  the 
chateau  of  Versailles,  is  surrounded  by  brick  walls, 
divided  into  sections  by  tablets  framed  in  jutting, 
uncut  blocks  of  granite.  At  the  base  of  the  walls  are 
thickets,  remarkable  by  reason  of  the  arrangement 
of  the  shrubs,  all  of  different  shades  of  green.  Two 
magnificent  gates,  facing  each  other,  lead  on  one 
side  to  a  terrace  that  overlooks  Montegnac,  on  the 
other  to  the  offices  and  a  farmhouse.  The  great 
main  gateway,  at  which  the  road  just  finished  ends, 
is  flanked  by  two  pretty  pavilions  in  the  style  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  The  facade  on  the  courtyard, 
consisting  of  three  pavilions,  one  in  the  centre  and 
separated  from  the  other  two  by  two  wings,  faces 
the  east.  The  facade  on  the  gardens,  arranged  in 
exactly  the  same  way,  faces  the  west.  The  pavil- 
ions have  only  one  window  in  front,  and  each  wing 
has  three.  The  pavilion  in  the  centre,  shaped  like 
a  bell-tower,  and  with  vermiculated  work  at  the 
corners,  is  noticeable  for  the  refined  taste  of  divers 
carvings,  distributed  with  a  sparing  hand.  Art  is 
timid  in  the  provinces,  and  although,  in  1829,  deco- 
ration had  made  great  progress  on  paper,  owners  of 
real  estate  were  afraid  of  the  expense,  which  the 
absence  of  competition  and  of  skilled  workmen  com- 
bined to  make  most  formidable.  The  pavilion  at 
each  end,  which  is  three  windows  deep,  is  sur- 
mounted by  very  high,  pointed  roofs,  adorned  with 
granite  balustrades,  and  in  each  pyramidal  section 


180  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

of  the  roof,  cut  by  a  graceful  platform  with  beaded 
edge  and  cast-iron  railing,  is  a  beautifully  carved 
window.  The  cornices  of  the  doors  and  windows 
on  each  floor  are  decorated  with  carvings  copied 
from  those  of  certain  houses  in  Genoa.  The  pa- 
vilion with  three  windows  facing  south  overlooks 
Montegnac;  the  other,  with  a  northern  exposure, 
overlooks  the  forest. 

From  the  garden  front,  the  eye  commands  that 
part  of  Montegnac  which  includes  Les  Tascherons, 
and  the  road  leading  to  the  chief  town  of  the  arron- 
dissement.  The  courtyard  front  enjoys  the  view 
afforded  by  the  vast  plains,  bordered  by  the  moun- 
tains of  La  Correze  in  the  direction  of  Montegnac, 
but  in  the  other  direction  extending  to  the  invisible 
line  of  the  horizon.  The  wings  have,  above  the 
ground-floor,  a  single  floor  with  sloping  roofs  above, 
pierced  by  dormer-windows  in  the  old  style;  but 
the  two  pavilions  at  each  end  have  two  floors 
above  the  ground-floor.  The  one  in  the  centre  is 
crowned  by  a  flattened  dome,  like  that  of  the  so- 
called  Pavilions  d'Horloge  at  the  Tuileries  and 
the  Louvre,  and  containing  a  single  room,  which 
forms  a  sort  of  lookout,  and  is  embellished  with  a 
clock.  For  the  sake  of  economy,  all  the  roofs 
were  covered  with  gutter-tiles,  making  an  enormous 
weight,  which  was  easily  supported  by  the  heavy 
timbers  cut  in  the  forest.  Before  he  died,  Graslin 
had  laid  out  the  road  which  had  just  been  finished 
through  gratitude;  for  that  undertaking,  which  Gras- 
lin called  his  folly,  had  put  five  hundred  thousand 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  l8l 

francs  in  circulation  in  the  commune.  As  a  result, 
Montegnac  had  materially  increased  in  size.  Behind 
the  offices,  on  the  hillside  toward  the  north,  which 
sloped  gently  down  to  the  plain,  Graslin  had  begun 
to  build  some  immense  farm  buildings,  which  indi- 
cated a  purpose  to  turn  the  waste  lands  to  some  use. 
Six  under-gardeners  were  quartered  in  the  offices, 
and,  under  the  direction  of  a  concierge,  who  acted  as 
head-gardener,  were  engaged  in  planting  and  finish- 
ing such  work  as  Monsieur  Bonnet  deemed  indis- 
pensable. The  ground-floor  of  the  chateau,  which 
was  intended  entirely  for  reception-rooms,  was 
sumptuously  furnished.  The  first  floor  was  decid- 
edly bare,  as  Monsieur  Graslin's  death  had  brought 
the  shipment  of  furniture  to  a  standstill. 

"Ah!  monseigneur,"  said  Madame  Graslin  to  the 
bishop,  after  she  had  made  the  tour  of  the  chateau, 
"  I  expected  to  live  in  a  hovel!  poor  Monsieur  Gras- 
lin spent  money  foolishly — " 

"And  you,"  added  the  bishop,  after  a  pause, 
noticing  how  Madame  Graslin  shuddered  when  he 
spoke,  "  you  are  going  to  spend  money  in  charity!" 

She  took  her  mother's  arm,  the  old  woman  leading 
Francis  by  the  hand,  and  went  with  them  to  the  long 
terrace  below  which  lie  the  church  and  the  rectory, 
and  from  which  the  houses  in  the  village  can  be 
seen  on  the  different  levels.  The  cure  took  posses- 
sion of  Monseigneur  Dutheil  to  point  out  the  different 
aspects  of  the  landscape.  But  the  two  priests  soon 
spied  Veronique  and  her  mother  at  the  other  end  of 
the  terrace,  standing  as  motionless  as  statues:  the 


1 82  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

old  woman  had  her  handkerchief  in  her  hand  and 
was  wiping  her  eyes,  the  daughter  had  her  hands 
stretched  out  over  the  balustrade  and  seemed  to 
be  pointing  to  the  church  below. 

"What  is  the  matter,  madame?"  the  cure  asked 
La  Sauviat. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Madame  Graslin,  as  she  turned 
and  walked  a  few  steps  to  meet  the  priests.  "  I  did 
not  know  that  the  cemetery  was  to  be  under  my  very 
eyes — " 

"  You  can  have  it  removed;  the  law  permits  you." 
.  "The  law!"  she  said,  uttering  the  words  like  a 
shriek. 

Thereupon  the  bishop  glanced  at  Veronique  once 
more.  Fatigued  by  the  threatening  expression  with 
which  that  priest  pierced  the  veil  of  flesh  that  covered 
her  mind  and  discovered  the  secret  that  lay  hidden 
in  one  of  the  graves  of  that  cemetery,  she  cried: 

"  Well,  yes!" 

The  bishop  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  stood 
for  some  moments  overwhelmed,  lost  in  thought. 

"  Help  my  daughter!"  cried  the  old  woman,  "  she 
is  turning  pale." 

"  The  air  is  keen,  it  has  given  me  a  chill,"  said 
Madame  Graslin,  falling  in  a  swoon  into  the  arms  of 
the  two  churchmen,  who  carried  her  to  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  chateau. 

When  she  recovered  consciousness,  she  saw  the 
bishop  and  the  cure,  both  on  their  knees,  praying 
for  her. 

"  May  the  angel  who  has  visited  you,  never  leave 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  183 

you!"  said  the  bishop,  as  he  gave  her  his  blessing. 
''Adieu,  my  daughter." 

His  words  caused  Madame  Graslin  to  burst  into 
tears. 

"  Is  she  saved?"  cried  La  Sauviat. 

"  In  this  world  and  in  the  other,"  replied  the 
bishop,  turning  once  more  before  leaving  the  room. 

The  room  to  which  La  Sauviat  had  bade  them 
carry  her  daughter  was  on  the  first  floor  of  the  end 
pavilion  which  overlooked  the  church,  the  cemetery, 
and  the  southern  portion  of  Montegnac.  Madame 
Graslin  wished  to  remain  there  and  installed  her- 
self as  comfortably  as  possible  with  Aline  and  little 
Francis.  La  Sauviat  naturally  remained  with  her 
daughter.  Madame  Graslin  required  several  days 
to  recover  from  the  intense  emotion  which  had 
overcome  her  on  her  arrival,  and  her  mother  com- 
pelled her  to  remain  in  bed  every  morning.  In  the 
evening,  Veronique  sat  on  the  bench  on  the  terrace, 
whence  her  eyes  wandered  from  the  church  to  the 
rectory  and  the  cemetery.  Despite  the  dogged 
opposition  of  La  Sauviat,  Madame  Graslin  seemed 
bent  upon  adopting  the  maniacal  habit  of  sitting 
always  in  the  same  place  and  abandoning  herself 
to  melancholy  reflections. 

"Madame  is  dying,"  said  Aline  to  La  Sauviat. 

Warned  by  those  two  women,  the  cure,  who  was 
loath  to  intrude,  came  assiduously  to  see  Madame 
Graslin,  as  soon  as  it  was  suggested  to  him  that  her 
mind  was  diseased.  That  true  shepherd  was  careful 
to  pay  his  visits  at  the  hour  when  Veronique  was 


1 84  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

accustomed  to  station  herself  at  the  corner  of  the 
terrace  with  her  son,  both  in  mourning.  October 
had  begun,  nature  was  becoming  gloomy  and  sad. 
Monsieur  Bonnet,  who  had  realized,  ever  since  her  ar- 
rival at  Montegnac,  that  she  was  suffering  from  some 
painful  internal  wound,  deemed  it  wise  to  await  the 
unreserved  confidence  of  this  woman  who  was  almost 
certain  to  become  his  penitent.  One  evening,  Madame 
Graslin  looked  at  the  cure  with  eyes  rendered  almost 
inanimate  by  the  fatal  indecision  often  observed  in 
those  who  cherish  the  thought  of  death.  From  that 
moment,  Monsieur  Bonnet  no  longer  hesitated,  but 
made  it  his  duty  to  check  the  progress  of  that  cruel 
mental  malady.  At  first,  there  ensued  between 
Veronique  and  the  priest  a  conflict  of  empty  words, 
beneath  which  they  concealed  their  real  thoughts. 
Notwithstanding  the  cold,  Veronique  was  sitting 
upon  a  stone  bench  with  Francis  on  her  knee.  La 
Sauviat  was  standing,  leaning  against  the  brick 
balustrade,  and  purposely  shut  off  the  view  of  the 
cemetery.  Aline  was  waiting  for  her  mistress  to 
give  her  the  child. 

"I  thought,  madame,"  said  the  cure,  who  was 
then  making  his  seventh  call  upon  her,  "that  melan- 
choly was  your  only  trouble;  but  I  see,"  he  said  in 
her  ear,  "that  you  are  suffering  from  despair.  That 
is  neither  a  Christian  nor  a  Catholic  sentiment." 

"  Oh!"  she  rejoined,  with  a  piercing  glance  at 
the  sky,  and  allowing  a  bitter  smile  to  play  about 
her  lips,  "what  sentiment  does  the  Church  leave  to 
the  damned,  if  not  despair?" 


ON   THE  TERRACE  AT  MONTEGNAC 


"The  air  is  keen,  it  has  given  me  a  chill,"  said 
Madame  Graslin,  falling  in  a  swoon  into  the  arms 
of  the  two  churchmen,  who  carried  her  to  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  chateau. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  185 

Those  words  enabled  the  holy  man  to  detect  pro- 
found and  extensive  devastation  in  that  heart. 

"Ah!  you  make  of  this  hill  your  hell,  when  it 
should  be  the  Calvary  whence  you  could  take  your 
flight  to  Heaven." 

"  I  no  longer  have  pride  enough  to  place  myself 
upon  such  a  pedestal,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  which 
disclosed  her  profound  contempt  for  herself. 

Thereupon  the  priest,  in  one  of  those  moments 
of  inspiration  which  are  so  natural  and  so  plentiful 
in  such  beautiful  virgin  minds,  the  man  of  God 
took  the  child  in  his  arms,  kissed  him  on  the  fore- 
head, and  said:  "Poor  little  fellow!"  in  a  fatherly 
tone;  then  handed  him  to  the  maid,  who  carried  him 
away. 

La  Sauviat  glanced  at  her  daughter  and  realized 
how  efficacious  Monsieur  Bonnet's  impulse  had 
been,  for  Veronique's  eyes,  so  long  dry,  were  wet 
with  tears.  The  old  Auvergnat  made  a  sign  to  the 
priest  and  disappeared. 

"Let  us  walk,"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet  to  Vero- 
nique,  leading  her  the  whole  length  of  the  terrace 
from  the  other  end  of  which  Les  Tascherons  could 
be  seen.  "  You  belong  to  me,  I  have  to  account  to 
God  for  your  diseased  mind." 

"  Let  me  recover  from  my  prostration,"  she  said. 

"  Your  prostration  is  due  to  unhealthy  medita- 
tion," he  replied,  quickly. 

"Yes, "she  replied,  with  the  ingenuousness  of 
sorrow  that  has  reached  the  point  where  one  throws 
circumspection  to  the  winds. 


1 86  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"  I  see,  you  have  fallen  into  the  abyss  of  indiffer- 
ence!" he  cried.  "  If  there  is  a  degree  of  physical 
suffering  at  which  modesty  ceases  to  exist,  there  is 
also  a  degree  of  moral  suffering  at  which  mental 
energy  disappears,  as  I  well  know." 

She  was  amazed  to  find  such  subtlety  of  percep- 
tion and  such  tender  compassion  in  Monsieur  Bon- 
net; but,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  exquisite 
delicacy  of  feeling,  which  no  passion  had  perverted 
in  that  man,  gave  him  a  woman's  motherly  affection 
for  the  sorrows  of  his  flock.  That  mens  dimnior, 
that  apostolic  tenderness,  places  the  priest  above 
other  men,  makes  of  him  a  divine  being.  Madame 
Graslin  had  not  as  yet  seen  enough  of  Monsieur 
Bonnet  to  discover  the  beauty  hidden  in  his  heart 
as  in  a  spring,  from  which  flow  grace  and  fresh- 
ness, and  true  life. 

"Ah!  monsieur!"  she  cried,  surrendering  to  him 
with  the  gesture  and  expression  of  a  dying  woman. 

"  I  understand  you!"  he  said.  "What  are  you 
to  do?  What  is  to  become  of  you?" 

They  walked  silently  along  the  balustrade,  down 
toward  the  moor.  That  solemn  moment  seemed  a 
propitious  season  to  the  bearer  of  good  tidings,  to 
that  son  of  Jesus. 

"  Suppose  that  you  were  in  God's  presence,"  he 
said,  in  a  low,  mysterious  voice,  "what  would  you 
say  to  Him?" 

Madame  Graslin  stopped  as  if  struck  by  light- 
ning, and  shivered  slightly. 

"  I  would  say  to  Him  as  Christ  said:  '  Father,  thou 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  187 

hast  forsaken  me!'"  she  replied  simply,  and  in  a 
tone  that  brought  tears  to  the  cure's  eyes. 

•"  O  Magdalen!  those  are  the  words  I  expected  to 
hear  from  you,"  cried  he,  unable  to  restrain  his  ad- 
miration. "You  see,  you  have  recourse  to  God's 
justice,  you  appeal  to  Him!  Listen  to  me,  madame. 
Religion  is,  in  anticipation,  divine  justice.  The 
Church  has  reserved  to  itself  the  trial  of  all  causes 
involving  the  soul.  Human  justice  is  a  feeble  image 
of  divine  justice,  it  is  naught  but  a  colorless  imita- 
tion applied  to  the  needs  of  society." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  are  not  judge  in  your  own  cause,  you  are 
in  God's  hands,"  replied  the  priest;  "  you  have  not 
the  right  to  convict  or  to  acquit  yourself.  God,  my 
child,  is  a  great  reviewer  of  causes." 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  He  sees  the  origin  of  things,  where  we  see  only 
the  things  themselves." 

Veronique  stood  still,  impressed  by  these  ideas, 
which  were  new  to  her. 

"To  you,"  continued  the  courageous  priest,  "to 
you,  because  of  your  grandeur  of  soul,  I  owe  differ- 
ent words  from  those  I  owe  my  humble  parishioners. 
You,  whose  mind  is  so  cultivated,  can  exalt  yourself 
to  the  divine  meaning  of  the  Catholic  religion,  which 
is  expressed  by  images  and  by  words  to  the  ignorant 
and  the  poor.  Listen  carefully  to  what  I  say,  your 
welfare  is  at  stake;  for,  despite  the  great  scope  of 
the  point  of  view  at  which  I  propose  to  take  my 
stand  for  a  moment,  it  will  be  your  cause  that  I 


1 88  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

argue.  The  law,  invented  to  protect  society,  is 
based  upon  equality.  Society,  which  is  simply  a 
collection  of  facts,  is  based  upon  inequality.  Thus 
there  is  a  lack  of  harmony  between  the  fact  and  the 
law.  Should  the  progress  of  society  be  impeded  or 
favored  by  the  law?  In  other  words,  should  the  law 
oppose  the  internal  social  movement  to  maintain 
society,  or  should  it  be  made  to  conform  to  that 
movement  in  order  to  guide  society?  Since  the 
existence  of  societies,  no  legislator  has  dared  take 
it  upon  himself  to  answer  that  question.  All  legis- 
lators have  contented  themselves  with  analyzing 
facts,  pointing  out  those  persons  who  seem  to  them 
reprehensible  or  criminal,  and  establishing  systems 
of  punishment  and  recompense.  Such  is  the  human 
law:  it  has  neither  the  means  of  preventing  crimes, 
nor  the  means  of  preventing  their  repetition  by  those 
whom  it  has  punished.  Philanthropy  is  a  sublime 
error,  it  tortures  the  body  to  no  purpose,  it  does  not 
produce  the  balm  that  cures  the  soul.  The  philan- 
thropist evolves  schemes,  puts  forth  ideas,  and  en- 
trusts their  execution  to  man,  to  silence,  to  toil,  to 
orders,  to  dumb,  helpless  things.  Religion  knows 
nothing  of  these  imperfections,  for  it  has  extended 
the  confines  of  life  beyond  this  world.  By  looking 
upon  all  of  us  as  fallen  from  a  higher  estate,  and  as 
being  in  a  state  of  degradation,  it  has  opened  an  in- 
exhaustible treasure  of  indulgence;  we  are  all  more 
or  less  advanced  toward  our  complete  regeneration, 
no  one  is  infallible:  the  Church  expects  faults, 
yes,  even  crimes.  Where  society  sees  a  criminal  to 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  189 

pluck  from  its  bosom,  the  Church  sees  a  soul  to  be 
saved.  More  than  that!  Inspired  by  God,  whom  it 
studies  and  contemplates,  the  Church  acknowledges 
the  inequality  of  men's  powers,  it  takes  into  account 
the  disproportion  of  burdens.  If  it  finds  you  unequal 
in  heart,  in  body,  in  mind,  in  ability,  in  merit,  it 
makes  you  all  equal  by  repentance.  Therein, 
madame,  equality  is  no  longer  an  empty  word,  for 
we  can  be,  we  are  all  equal  by  virtue  of  our  senti- 
ments. From  the  hideous  fetich  worship  of  savage 
tribes  to  the  gracious  inventions  of  Greece,  to  the 
profound  and  ingenious  doctrines  of  the  Egyptians 
and  the  Hindoos,  interpreted  by  pleasing  or  repulsive 
forms  of  worship,  there  has  always  been  in  man  one 
fixed  conviction,  the  conviction  of  his  fall,  of  his  sin, 
whence  the  universal  idea  of  sacrifice  and  redemp- 
tion. The  death  of  the  Redeemer,  who  redeemed 
the  human  race,  is  the  image  of  what  we  ought  to 
do  for  ourselves:  redeem  our  faults!  redeem  our 
errors!  redeem  our  crimes!  Everything  may  be 
redeemed — those  words  are  the  essence  of  Cathol- 
icism; thence  come  its  adorable  sacraments,  which 
assist  in  the  triumph  of  grace  and  support  the 
sinner.  To  weep,  madame,  to  groan  like  Magdalen 
in  the  desert,  is  only  the  beginning;  to  act  is  the 
end.  The  monasteries  wept  and  acted,  they  prayed 
and  spread  civilization;  they  were  the  active  instru- 
ments of  our  divine  religion.  They  built,  planted, 
cultivated  Europe,  while  saving  the  treasure-houses 
of  our  knowledge  and  of  human  justice,  politics,  and 
art.  The  location  of  those  irradiating  centres  in 


190  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Europe  will  always  be  recognizable.  The  majority 
of  modern  cities  are  daughters  of  some  monastery. 
If  you  believe  that  God  is  your  Judge,  the  Church 
says  to  you  by  my  voice  that  everything  may  be 
redeemed  by  the  good  works  of  repentance.  God's 
great  hands  weigh  at  once  the  evil  that  is  done  and 
the  value  of  the  good  accomplished.  Be  in  yourself 
the  monastery,  you  may  recommence  here  the  age 
of  miracles.  Your  prayers  should  be  good  works. 
From  your  good  works  will  flow  the  happiness  of 
those  above  whom  you  are  placed  by  your  fortune, 
your  intellect,  everything,  even  this  natural  situa- 
tion, an  image  of  your  social  position." 

At  that  moment,  the  priest  and  Madame  Graslin 
turned  to  retrace  their  steps  toward  the  plain  below, 
so  that  the  cure  could  point  at  the  same  time  to  the 
village  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  the  chateau  domi- 
nating the  landscape.  It  was  then  half-past  four. 
A  golden  sunbeam  shone  upon  the  balustrade  and 
the  gardens,  illuminated  the  chateau,  gleamed  on  the 
pedestals  of  gilded  iron;  it  lighted  up  the  long,  flat 
plain,  divided  by  the  road,  a  melancholy  gray  ribbon 
which  had  not  the  garland  formed  of  trees  that  we 
see  on  both  sides  of  other  roads.  When  Veronique 
and  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  passed  the  huge  mass  of 
the  chateau,  they  could  see,  above  the  courtyard,  the 
stables  and  the  offices,  the  forest  of  Montegnac,  over 
which  that  sunbeam  glided  like  a  caress.  Although 
that  last  ray  of  the  setting  sun  touched  only  the 
highest  points,  it  enabled  them  to  see  perfectly, 
from  the  hill  on  which  Montegnac  lies  to  the  first 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  191 

peak  of  the  chain  of  La  Correze,  the  vagaries  of 
the  superb  tapestry  that  a  forest  displays  in  au- 
tumn. The  oaks  were  masses  of  Florentine  bronze; 
the  walnuts  and  chestnuts  exhibited  their  verdigris 
tones;  the  early-blossoming  trees  were  arrayed  in 
their  golden  foliage,  and  all  those  colors  were  soft- 
ened by  gray  patches  of  unfilled  land.  The  trunks 
of  the  trees  that  were  entirely  stripped  of  leaves 
were  like  white  pillars.  Those  ruddy,  tawny,  gray 
tints,  artistically  blended  by  the  pale  reflection  of 
the  October  sun,  harmonized  with  that  fertile  oasis, 
with  that  vast  tract  of  fallow-land,  of  a  greenish  hue, 
like  stagnant  water.  It  occurred  to  the  priest  to  call 
attention  to  that  lovely,  mute  spectacle;  not  a  tree, 
not  a  bird,  death  on  the  plain,  silence  in  the  forest; 
here  and  there  a  column  of  smoke  from  the  cottages 
in  the  village.  The  chateau  seemed  gloomy,  like  its 
mistress.  By  virtue  of  a  singular  law,  everything 
about  a  house  copies  the  person  who  holds  sway 
therein,  and  whose  mind  hovers  over  it.  Madame 
Graslin,  who  was  impressed  by  the  cure's  words, 
whose  heart  was  moved  by  his  intense  conviction, 
and  whose  womanly  tenderness  was  appealed  to  by 
the  angelic  quality  of  his  voice,  suddenly  stopped. 
The  cure  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  to  the  forest; 
Veronique  looked  that  way. 

"Do  you  not  see  in  that  forest  a  sort  of  vague 
resemblance  to  social  life?  Every  man  to  his  des- 
tiny! Observe  the  inequalities  in  that  mass  of  trees. 
Those  that  are  perched  highest  lack  nourishing  soil 
and  water;  they  die  first!" 


192  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"They  are  the  ones  that  the  bill-hook  of  the 
woman  who  gathers  wood  cuts  off  in  the  flower  of 
their  youth!"  she  said,  bitterly. 

"  Do  not  recur  to  those  sentiments,"  rejoined  the 
cure,  sternly,  albeit  indulgently.  "It  is  the  misfor- 
tune of  this  forest  that  it  has  never  been  cut;  do 
you  see  the  phenomenon  that  those  dense  masses 
present?" 

Veronique,  for  whom  the  natural  peculiarities  of 
forests  had  little  interest,  obediently  rested  her  eyes 
on  the  forest,  then  turned  them  softly  on  the  cure. 

"Do  you  not  notice,"  he  said,  divining  her  igno- 
rance from  that  glance,  "  lines  below  which  the  trees 
of  every  sort  are  still  green?" 

"Ah!  yes,  1  see,"  she  cried.     "  Why?" 

"There,"  replied  the  cure,  "lies  the  fortune  of 
Montegnac  and  your  own;  a  vast  fortune  which  I 
had  pointed  out  to  Monsieur  Graslin.  You  see  the 
furrows  formed  by  three  valleys,  the  streams  from 
which  empty  into  the  Gabou.  That  stream  sepa- 
rates the  forest  of  Montegnac  from  the  commune 
adjoining  ours  on  that  side.  It  is  dry  in  September 
and  October,  but  carries  a  great  deal  of  water  in 
November.  The  supply  could  easily  be  increased 
by  a  little  work  in  the  forest  in  the  direction  of 
saving  it  all  and  connecting  the  smallest  springs,  but 
the  water  now  serves  no  useful  purpose;  but  build  a 
dam  or  two  between  the  two  hills,  to  keep  it  back 
and  store  it,  as  Riquet  did  at  Saint-Ferreol,  where 
immense  reservoirs  were  built  to  feed  the  Langue- 
doc  canal,  and  you  will  fertilize  that  wild  moor  with 


THE  VILLAGE    CURE  193 

water  judiciously  distributed  by  trenches,  and  the 
supply  regulated  by  gates;  water  that  can  be  used  for 
drinking,  if  necessary,  and  the  overflow  be  directed 
into  our  little  stream.  You  will  have  handsome  pop- 
lars along  your  canals,  and  you  will  raise  cattle  in  the 
finest  fields  imaginable.  What  is  grass?  sun  and 
water.  There  is  enough  soil  in  these  plains  for  the 
roots  of  the  grass;  the  streams  will  furnish  dew 
which  will  fertilize  the  soil,  the  poplars  will  feed 
upon  it  and  check  the  progress  of  the  mists,  so  that 
their  nourishing  elements  will  be  pumped  out  by  all 
the  plants:  such  are  the  secrets  of  the  luxuriant 
vegetation  in  the  valleys.  Some  day  you  will  see 
life  and  joy  and  activity  where  silence  now  reigns, 
where  the  glance  is  made  sad  by  the  prevailing 
barrenness.  Will  not  that  be  a  beautiful  prayer? 
Will  not  such  works  employ  your  leisure  better  than 
melancholy  thoughts?" 

Veronique  pressed  the  cure's  hand,  and  said  only 
these  words,  but  they  were  sublime  words: 

"  It  shall  be  done,  monsieur." 

"You  can  plan  this  great  undertaking,"  he  con- 
tinued, "but  you  cannot  execute  it.  Neither  you 
nor  I  have  the  necessary  knowledge  for  carrying  out 
an  idea,  which  may  occur  to  any  man,  but  which 
raises  enormous  difficulties,  for,  although  simple  and 
hardly  visible,  those  difficulties  call  for  the  applica- 
tion of  the  most  exact  scientific  principles.  Begin 
to-day,  therefore,  to  look  about  for  the  human  instru- 
ments who  will  enable  you  to  collect,  twelve  years 
hence,  an  income  of  six  or  seven  thousand  louis  from 
13 


194  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

the  six  thousand  acres  thus  fertilized.  That  work  will 
some  day  make  Montegnac  one  of  the  richest  com- 
munes in  the  department.  The  forest  yields  you 
no  revenue  as  yet,  but  sooner  or  later  speculation 
will  come  in  quest  of  these  magnificent  trees,  treas- 
ures amassed  by  time,  the  only  treasures  whose 
production  cannot  be  hastened  or  replaced  by  man. 
Some  day  perhaps  the  State  will  itself  provide 
means  of  transportation  from  this  forest,  for  the 
timber  would  be  useful  for  its  navy;  but  it  will  wait 
until  the  population  of  Montegnac,  increased  tenfold, 
demands  its  protection,  for  the  State  is  like  fortune, 
it  gives  only  to  the  rich.  This  estate  will  be,  in 
time,  one  of  the  finest  in  France;  it  will  be  the 
pride  of  your  grandson,  who  perhaps  will  consider 
the  chateau  a  paltry  affair  in  comparison  with  the 
revenues." 

"  That  shall  be  my  life-work,"  said  Veronique. 

"Such  a  work  will  atone  for  many  sins,"  replied 
the  cure. 

Seeing  that  he  was  understood,  he  tried  to  leave 
one  final  impression  upon  that  woman's  mind:  he 
had  guessed  that,  in  her  case,  the  mind  led  to  the 
heart;  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  in  most  women 
the  heart  is  the  pathway  to  the  mind. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "in 
what  a  state  of  error  you  are?" 

She  looked  timidly  at  him. 

"Your  repentance  is  as  yet  only  the  feeling  of  a 
defeat  suffered;  the  despair  of  Satan  is  a  horrible 
thing,  but  such  was,  it  may  be,  the  repentance  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  195 

men  before  Christ's  coming;  but  repentance,  as  we 
Catholics  view  it,  is  the  terror  of  a  soul  that  stum- 
bles in  the  evil  way,  and  to  whom  God  reveals 
himself  in  that  shock!  .  You  resemble  the  heathen 
Orestes,  become  Saint  Paul!" 

"Your  words  have  changed  me  completely,"  she 
cried.  "  Now,  oh!  now,  I  long  to  live." 

"The  spirit  has  conquered,"  said  the  modest 
priest  to  himself,  as  he  took  his  leave  with  a  glad 
heart. 

He  had  tossed  food  to  the  secret  despair  that  was 
devouring  Madame  Graslin,  by  giving  to  her  repent- 
ance the  form  of  a  noble  and  meritorious  action.  So 
Veronique  wrote  to  Monsieur  Grosset£te  the  very 
next  day.  A  few  days  later,  she  received  from 
Limoges  three  saddle-horses  sent  by  that  old  friend. 
At  Veronique's  request,  Monsieur  Bonnet  recom- 
mended to  her  the  postmaster's  son,  a  young  man 
who  was  overjoyed  to  put  himself  at  Madame  Gras- 
lin's  service  and  earn  fifty  crowns.  He  was  a 
chubby-faced  boy,  with  black  eyes  and  hair,  short 
and  sturdily  built,  named  Maurice  Champion;  Vero- 
nique was  pleased  with  him,  and  he  assumed  his 
new  duties  at  once.  He  was  to  accompany  his 
mistress  on  her  excursions  and  take  care  of  the 
saddle-horses. 

The  head-keeper  of  Montegnac  was  an  ex-quarter- 
master in  the  Garde  Royale,  born  at  Limoges, 
whom  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Navarreins  had  sent  to 
Montegnac  from  one  of  his  estates,  to  study  its 
value  and  transmit  his  views  to  him,  so  that  he 


196  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

might  ascertain  what  it  could  be  made  to  yield. 
Jerome  Colorat  saw  nothing  there  but  wild,  unfruit- 
ful plains,  forests  that  could  not  be  exploited  because 
of  the  difficulties  of  transportation,  a  ruined  chateau, 
and  the  necessity  of  an  enormous  outlay  to  make 
the  place  habitable  and  restore  the  gardens.  Dis- 
mayed above  all  by  the  clearings,  strewn  with 
granite  boulders,  which  made  dark  patches  in  the 
vast  forest  as  seen  from  a  distance,  that  honest  but 
unintelligent  servitor  was  responsible  for  the  sale  of 
the  property. 

"Colorat,"  said  Madame  Graslin  to  her  keeper, 
having  summoned  him  to  her  presence,  "  beginning 
to-morrow,  I  shall  probably  ride  every  morning. 
You  should  be  familiar  with  the  various  estates  that 
go  to  make  up  this  domain,  and  with  those  that 
Monsieur  Graslin  added  to  it;  I  propose  to  make  a 
tour  of  inspection,  and  you  will  point  them  out 
to  me." 

The  people  at  the  chateau  learned  with  joy  of 
the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  Veronique's 
mode  of  life.  Aline,  without  waiting  for  orders, 
hunted  up  her  mistress's  old  black  riding-habit 
and  put  it  in  condition  to  wear.  The  next  day,  La 
Sauviat,  with  inexpressible  pleasure,  saw  her  daugh- 
ter dressed  for  riding.  Under  the  guidance  of  her 
keeper  and  Champion,  who  consulted  their  respec- 
tive memories  as  they  went  along,  for  the  paths  in 
those  uninhabited  mountains  were  hardly  marked, 
Madame  Graslin  set  herself  the  task  at  first  of 
riding  only  over  those  summits  to  which  her  woods 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  197 

extended,  in  order  to  make  herself  familiar  with  the 
slopes  and  the  ravines,  natural  roadways  which  cut 
that  long  crest.  She  wished  to  measure  her  task, 
to  study  the  nature  of  the  currents,  and  go  down  to 
the  foundations  of  the  enterprise  suggested  by  the 
cure.  She  followed  Colorat,  who  rode  first,  while 
Champion  rode  a  few  steps  behind  her. 

So  long  as  their  path  lay  through  the  thickly 
wooded  country,  alternately  ascending  and  descend- 
ing the  undulations  that  follow  one  another  so  rapidly 
in  the  mountainous  parts  of  France,  Veronique  was 
absorbed  by  the  marvels  of  the  forest.  There  were 
trees  hundreds  of  years  old,  the  first  specimens  of 
which  surprised  her  greatly,  but  to  which  she  finally 
became  accustomed;  then  there  were  tall  natural 
hedges,  or,  in  a  clearing,  a  solitary  pine  of  prodigious 
height;  and  then,  a  much  rarer  thing,  one  of  those 
shrubs  which  are  dwarfed  everywhere  else,  but, 
under  peculiar  conditions,  reach  gigantic  proportions, 
and  are  sometimes  as  old  as  the  soil.  She  felt  an  in- 
describable thrill  at  sight  of  a  cloud  rolling  over  bare 
rocks.  She  noticed  the  white  furrows  made  by  the 
streams  of  melted  snow,  which,  at  a  distance,  re- 
semble scars.  Beyond  a  gorge,  devoid  of  vegetation, 
she  gazed  in  admiration  at  the  centenary  chestnuts, 
as  straight  as  Alpine  firs,  growing  on  a  rock-strewn 
hillside.  The  rapid  pace  at  which  they  rode  afforded 
bird's-eye  views,  now  of  vast  tracts  of  moving  sand, 
quagmires  with  a  few  trees  growing  here  and  there, 
granite  boulders,  hanging  rocks,  dark  valleys,  great 
fields  of  heather,  some  in  bloom,  others  withered; 


198  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

now,  of  gloomy  solitudes,  where  junipers  and  caper- 
bushes  grow;  now,  of  meadows  carpeted  with  short 
grass,  patches  of  ground  enriched  by  venerable  slime; 
in  a  word,  of  the  melancholies,  the  splendors,  the 
attractive  and  the  rugged  aspects,  the  curious  spec- 
tacles afforded  by  nature  in  the  mountains  of  central 
France.  And,  as  she  gazed  upon  those  pictures,  out- 
wardly varying  but  instinct  with  the  same  thought, 
the  profound  melancholy  expressed  by  that  exposi- 
tion of  nature,  at  once  wild  and  deserted,  ruined, 
barren,  gained  upon  her  and  harmonized  with  her 
secret  feelings.  And  when,  looking  down  through  a 
notch,  she  saw  the  moors  at  her  feet,  when  she  had 
to  climb  some  arid  ravine  where  stunted  shrubs  had 
grown  among  the  sand  and  rocks,  and  that  spectacle 
recurred  from  moment  to  moment,  the  spirit  of  that 
rugged  nature  impressed  her,  suggested  ideas  that 
were  new  to  her  and  were  aroused  by  the  meaning 
of  that  varied  panorama. 

There  is  not  an  acre  of  forest  that  has  not  its  sig- 
nificance; not  a  clearing,  not  a  thicket  that  does  not 
suggest  analogies  to  the  labyrinth  of  human  thoughts. 
Who,  among  those  whose  minds  have  been  cultivated 
or  whose  hearts  have  been  wounded,  can  walk  in  a 
forest  and  not  hear  the  forest  speak  to  him?  In- 
sensibly there  arises  a  voice,  comforting  or  terrible, 
but  more  frequently  comforting  than  terrible.  If  we 
should  seek  the  causes  of  the  sensation,  at  once 
grave,  soothing,  simple,  and  mysterious,  that  seizes 
us  at  such  times,  perhaps  we  should  find  them  in  the 
sublime  and  ingenious  spectacle  of  all  those  creatures 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  199 

obedient  and  unchangeably  resigned  to  their  destiny. 
Sooner  or  later  the  overwhelming  consciousness  of 
the  permanence  of  nature  fills  your  heart,  moves 
you  profoundly,  and  you  end  by  being  anxious  con- 
cerning God. 

Thus  Veronique,  in  the  silence  of  those  peaks,  in 
the  perfumed  woods,  in  the  serenity  of  the  air,  ac- 
quired, as  she  told  Monsieur  Bonnet  that  evening, 
the  certainty  of  august  clemency.  She  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  possibility  of  an  order  of  things  more 
elevated  than  that  in  which  her  reveries  had  there- 
tofore revolved.  She  felt  happy,  in  a  measure.  Not 
for  a  long  time  had  she  experienced  such  peace  of 
mind.  Was  that  feeling  due  to  the  similarity  she 
detected  between  those  regions  and  the  exhausted, 
withered  regions  of  her  heart?  Had  she  gazed  upon 
those  disturbances  of  nature  with  a  sort  of  delight, 
reflecting  that  inert  matter  was  chastised  there, 
although  it  had  not  sinned?  Certainly  she  was  most 
profoundly  moved;  for  Colorat  and  Champion  called 
each  other's  attention  to  her  several  times,  as  if  she 
seemed  to  them  transfigured.  At  a  certain  point, 
Veronique  detected  something  indefinably  stern 
and  rugged  in  the  steep  bed  of  the  mountain  tor- 
rents. She  surprised  herself  longing  to  hear  the 
water  rushing  in  those  ravines,  brilliant  with  the 
foliage  of  autumn. 

"Always  to  love!"  she  thought. 

Ashamed  of  that  phrase,  which  was  thrown  at  her 
as  if  by  a  voice,  she  urged  her  horse  fearlessly  to- 
ward the  first  peak  of  La  Correze,  and  persisted  in 


200  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

her  purpose  despite  the  advice  of  her  two  guides. 
She  was  alone  when  she  reached  the  summit  of  that 
spur,  called  the  Roche-five,  and  she  remained  there 
a  few  moments,  looking  at  the  landscape  spread  out 
before  her.  After  hearing  the  secret  voice  of  so 
many  created  things  asking  to  be  endowed  with  life, 
she  received  a  blow  within  which  decided  her  to  dis- 
play in  her  work  the  perseverance  which  was  so 
much  admired  and  of  which  she  had  given  so  many 
proofs.  She  tied  her  horse  to  a  tree  by  the  rein  and 
sat  down  upon  a  boulder,  letting  her  eyes  wander 
over  that  expanse  where  nature  played  the  part  of 
cruel  step-mother,  and  she  felt  in  her  heart  the  same 
maternal  yearnings  she  had  felt  before  as  she  gazed 
at  her  child.  Prepared  to  receive  the  sublime  in- 
struction which  that  spectacle  afforded,  by  the 
almost  involuntary  meditations  which,  to  use  her 
own  beautiful  expression,  had  winnowed  her  heart, 
she  roused  herself  as  if  from  a  lethargy. 

"I  understood  then,"  she  told  the  cure,  "  that 
our  souls  must  be  ploughed,  as  well  as  the  earth." 

That  vast  landscape  was  lighted  up  by  the  pale 
November  sun.  A  few  grayish  clouds  were  scud- 
ding from  the  west  before  a  cold  wind.  It  was  about 
three  o'clock,  it  had  taken  Veronique  four  hours  to 
reach  that  point;  but,  like  all  those  who  are  con- 
sumed by  a  profound  secret  grief,  she  paid  no  heed 
to  external  circumstances.  At  that  moment,  her 
life  was  in  very  truth  ennobled  by  the  sublime  spec- 
tacle of  nature. 

"Do  not  stay  here  any  longer,  madame,"  said  a 


FARRABESCHE  TO  MADAME  GRASLIN 


Madame  Graslin  saw  below  her  a  face  almost 
black  with  sunburn,  pierced  by  tivo  eyes  which  re- 
sembled tongues  of  fire.  On  each  side  of  that  face 
a  great  mass  of  brown  hair  hung  down,  and  a  fan- 
shaped  beard  beneath.  The  man  respectfully  raised 
one  of  the  huge  broad-brimmed  hats  worn  by  the 
peasants  in  the  centre  of  France. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  2OI 

man  whose  voice  made  her  start;  "  soon  you  will 
not  be  able  to  return,  for  you  are  more  than  two 
leagues  from  any  house;  the  forest  is  impassable 
after  dark;  but  dangers  of  that  sort  are  nothing 
compared  to  the  risk  you  run  here;  in  a  few  mo- 
ments it  will  be  deathly  cold  on  this  peak;  the 
cause  of  the  cold  is  unknown,  but  it  has  killed 
several  people." 

Madame  Graslin  saw  below  her  a  face  almost 
black  with  sunburn,  pierced  by  two  eyes  which 
resembled  tongues  of  fire.  On  each  side  of  that 
face  a  great  mass  of  brown  hair  hung  down,  and  a 
fan-shaped  beard  beneath.  The  man  respectfully 
raised  one  of  the  huge  broad-brimmed  hats  worn  by 
the  peasants  in  the  centre  of  France,  and  uncovered 
one  of  those  wasted  but  noble  foreheads  by  which 
paupers  sometimes  compel  the  attention  of  the  public. 
Veronique  was  not  in  the  least  terrified;  she  was  in 
one  of  those  positions  in  which  all  those  petty  consid- 
erations which  make  women  fearful  lose  their  power. 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  be  here?"  she  asked. 

"  I  live  only  a  short  distance  away,"  replied  the 
unknown. 

"  And  what  are  you  doing  in  this  desert?" 

"  1  live  here." 

"  How,  and  on  what?" 

"  1  receive  a  small  sum  for  looking  after  this  part 
of  the  forest,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  opposite  slope 
of  the  mountain  to  that  which  overlooked  the  plains 
of  Montegnac. 

Madame  Graslin  spied  the  barrel  of  a  gun  and  a 


202  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

game-bag.  If  she  had  been  afraid,  she  would  have 
been  reassured  then. 

"  You  are  a  keeper?" 

"  No,  madame,  in  order  to  be  a  keeper,  one  must 
be  able  to  take  the  oath,  and  to  take  the  oath,  one 
must  enjoy  the  rights  of  a  citizen." 

"  Who  are  you,  then?" 

"  I  amFarrabesche,"  said  the  man,  with  profound 
humility,  looking  at  the  ground. 

Madame  Graslin,  to  whom  that  name  meant 
nothing,  looked  at  the  man  and  observed  in  his 
excessively  mild  face  signs  of  concealed  ferocity; 
the  uneven  teeth  gave  to  the  mouth,  with  its  blood- 
red  lips,  an  expression  of  irony  and  reckless  wicked- 
ness; the  brown,  protruding  cheek-bones  had  an 
indefinable  touch  of  animalism.  He  was  of  medium 
height,  had  stout  shoulders,  a  very  short,  thick 
neck,  the  broad,  hairy  hands  of  men  of  violent 
temper,  who  are  quite  capable  of  abusing  their 
advantages  in  the  way  of  brute  force.  His  last 
words,  too,  indicated  some  mystery,  to  which  his 
manner,  his  face,  and  his  figure  imparted  a  terri- 
fying significance. 

"Are  you  in  my  service?"  said  Veronique,  in  a 
mild  voice. 

"  Have  I  the  honor  of  speaking  to  Madame  Gras- 
lin?" asked  Farrabesche. 

"Yes,  my  friend." 

Farrabesche  disappeared  as  swiftly  as  a  deer,  after 
bestowing  a  fearful  glance  on  his  mistress.  Vero- 
nique lost  no  time  in  mounting  and  returning  to  her 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  203 

two  servants,  who  were  beginning  to  be  anxious 
about  her,  for  everyone  in  that  region  knew  of 
the  inexplicable  unhealthfulness  of  the  Roche-Vive. 
Colorat  urged  his  mistress  to  ride  down  through  a 
small  valley  that  led  to  the  plain.  "It  would  be 
dangerous,"  he  said,  "to  return  by  the  heights, 
where  the  roads,  which  were  indistinctly  marked  at 
best,  crossed  and  recrossed  each  other,  and  where 
he  might  go  astray,  notwithstanding  his  acquaintance 
with  the  country." 

As  soon  as  they  were  on  the  level  ground,  Vero- 
nique  slackened  her  horse's  pace. 

"Who  is  this  Farrabesche  whom  you  employ?" 
she  asked  her  head-keeper. 

"  Did  madame  fall  in  with  him?"  cried  Colorat. 

"Yes,  but  he  ran  away." 

"  Poor  man!  perhaps  he  doesn't  know  how  kind 
madame  is." 

"Why,  what  has  he  done?" 

"Why,  madame,  Farrabesche  is  an  assassin," 
said  Champion,  artlessly. 

"  Then  he  was  pardoned?"  Veronique  asked,  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  No,  madame,"  replied  Colorat.  "Farrabesche 
was  tried  at  the  assizes  and  sentenced  to  ten  years 
penal  servitude;  he  did  half  of  his  time,  then  he 
was  pardoned  and  came  back  from  the  galleys  in 
1827.  He  owes  his  life  to  monsieur  le  cure,  who 
induced  him  to  give  himself  up.  If  he  had  been 
sentenced  to  death  by  default,  he  would  have  been 
captured  sooner  or  later,  and  his  prospects  would 


204  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

have  been  bad.  Monsieur  Bonnet  went  after  him 
all  alone,  at  the  risk  of  being  killed.  Nobody  knows 
what  he  said  to  Farrabesche.  They  were  alone 
together  two  days;  the  third  day  he  brought  him 
back  to  Tulle,  where  he  gave  himself  up.  Monsieur 
Bonnet  went  to  see  a  good  lawyer  and  urged  him  to 
take  Farrabesche's  case.  Farrabesche  got  off  with 
ten  years'  imprisonment,  and  monsieur  le  cure  went 
to  see  him  in  prison.  That  fellow,  who  was  once 
the  terror  of  the  country,  became  as  gentle  as  a 
girl,  and  let  them  take  him  to  the  galleys  without  a 
word.  On  his  release,  he  came  here  to  live,  under 
monsieur  le  cure's  direction.  No  one  ever  speaks 
more  than  his  name  aloud;  he  goes  to  mass  and  to 
service  Sundays  and  holidays.  Although  he  has  his 
place  among  us,  he  always  sits  alone  at  the  end  of  a 
long  wall.  He  attends  communion  from  time  to  time; 
but  he  keeps  apart  at  the  holy  table,  just  the  same." 

"And  that  man  killed  another  man?" 

"One?"  said  Colorat;  "he  has   killed   several! 
But  he's  a  good  man,  all  the  same!" 

"  Is  it  possible?"  cried  Veronique,  letting  her  reins 
fall  on  the  horse's  neck,  in  her  amazement. 

"You  see,  madame,"  continued  the  keeper,  who 
asked  nothing  better  than  an  opportunity  to  tell  the 
story,  "  Farrabesche  may  have  been  right,  in  princi- 
ple. He  was  the  last  of  the  Farrabesches,  an  old 
family  of  La  Correze!  His  older  brother,  Captain 
Farrabesche,  died  ten  years  before,  in  Italy,  at 
Montenotte,  a  captain  at  twenty -two.  Wasn't  that' 
hard  luck?  And  a  man  of  talent,  too;  who  knew 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  205 

how  to  read  and  write,  and  gave  promise  of  being  a 
general!  The  family  felt  it  sorely,  and  they  had  reason 
to,  upon  my  word !  I  was  with  the  other  in  those 
days  and  I  heard  of  that  death!  Oh!  Captain  Farra- 
besche  died  a  noble  death:  he  saved  the  army  and 
the  Little  Corporal!  I  was  serving  under  General 
Steingel,  a  German,  an  Alsatian,  that  is,  a  famous 
general,  but  he  was  short-sighted,  and  that  was  the 
cause  of  his  death,  which  happened  some  time  after 
Captain  Farrabesche's.  The  youngest  little  fellow, 
the  one  we  are  talking  about,  was  six  years  old  when 
he  heard  them  talking  about  his  older  brother's  death. 
The  second  brother  was  in  the  service,  too,  but  as 
a  private;  he  died  a  sergeant,  first  regiment  of  the 
guard,  a  fine  place,  at  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  where 
they  went  through  the  manoeuvres,  you  know,  ma- 
dame,  just  as  peacefully  as  they  do  at  the  Tuileries. 
I  was  there,  too!  Oh!  I  was  lucky,  I  was  in  every- 
thing without  getting  a  wound.  Well,  our  Farra- 
besche,  although  he's  a  brave  fellow,  took  it  into  his 
head  that  he  wouldn't  go.  In  fact,  it  did  seem  as  if 
the  army  had  a  grudge  against  that  family.  When 
the  sub-prefect  went  after  him,  in  1811,  he  ran  away 
into  the  woods;  a  refractory,  as  they  used  to  call 
them.  Then  he  joined  a  party  of  chauffeurs,*  it  may 
have  been  willingly  or  by  force,  but  he  burned!  You 
understand  that  no  one  but  monsieur  le  cure  knows 
what  he  did  with  those  blackguards,  saving  your  pres- 
ence! He  had  many  a  fight  with  the  gendarmes, 

*  Burners— marauders  who  compelled  their  victims  to  disclose  the  hiding-place 
of  their  treasure  by  burning  the  soles  of  their  feet  before  the  fire. 


206  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

and  with  the  line  too!  In  fact,  he  was  in  seven 
skirmishes." 

"He  is  supposed  to  have  killed  two  soldiers  and 
three  gendarmes!"  said  Champion. 

"  Does  anyone  know  the  count  ?  he  has  never 
told,"  rejoined  Colorat.  "  At  last,  madame,  almost 
all  the  others  were  taken  ;  but  he,  young  and  active 
as  he  was,  and  knowing  the  country  better,  always 
escaped.  Those  chauffeurs  used  to  stay  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Brives  and  Tulle;  they  used  to  beat  about 
here  often,  because  it  was  so  easy  for  Farrabesche  to 
hide  them.  In  1814,  they  paid  no  more  attention  to 
him,  for  the  conscription  was  abolished;  but  he  had 
to  pass  the  winter  of  1815  in  the  woods.  As  he  had 
nothing  of  his  own  to  live  on,  he  helped  to  stop  the 
mail-coach  in  the  gorge  yonder;  but  at  last,  accord- 
ing to  monsieur  le  cure's  advice,  he  gave  himself  up. 
It  wasn't  easy  to  find  witnesses,  for  no  one  dared  to 
testify  against  him.  His  lawyer  and  the  cure  worked 
so  hard  that  they  got  him  off  with  ten  years.  He 
was  lucky,  after  burning,  for  he  did  burn!" 

"  But  what  was  this  burning?" 

"  If  you  wish,  madame,  I'll  tell  you  what  they  did, 
as  far  as  I  have  learned  from  one  and  another,  for  I 
never  did  it,  you  understand!  It  isn't  a  pretty  thing 
to  do,  but  necessity  knows  no  law.  Well,  seven  or 
eight  of  them  would  break  into  a  farmer's  house,  or 
a  land-owner's,  who  was  supposed  to  have  money 
about  him;  they'd  light  a  fire  and  eat  their  supper  in 
the  middle  of  the  night;  then,  between  the  fruit  and 
the  cheese,  if  the  master  of  the  house  refused  to  give 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  207 

them  the  sum  of  money  they  demanded,  they'd  tie 
his  feet  to  the  pot-hook  and  not  untie  them  till  they 
got  their  money:  and  there  you  are.  They  were 
always  masked.  Some  of  their  expeditions  didn't 
turn  out  well.  Dame!  there  are  always  some  obsti- 
nate people,  some  misers.  One  farmer,  Pere  Coche- 
grue,  who  was  so  close  he'd  skin  a  flint,  let  his  feet 
burn!  Faith,  it  killed  him!  Monsieur  David's  wife, 
near  Drives,  died  of  the  fright  those  people  gave  her, 
just  from  seeing  them  tie  up  her  husband's  feet.  'Give 
them  what  you  have!'  she  said,  when  she  was  dying. 
He  wouldn't,  so  she  pointed  to  the  hiding-place.  The 
burners  were  the  terror  of  the  neighborhood  for  five 
years;  but  get  it  well  into  your  head — pardon  the 
expression,  madame — that  more  than  one  son  of  a 
good  family  belonged  to  them,  and  they  weren't  the 
ones  that  let  themselves  be  nabbed !" 

Madame  Graslin  listened  without  replying.  There 
was  a  moment's  silence.  Young  Champion,  eager  to 
entertain  his  mistress,  undertook  to  tell  what  he  knew 
of  Farrabesche. 

"  We  ought  to  tell  madame  everything  there  is  to 
tell  about  him.  Farrabesche  hasn't  his  equal  at  run- 
ning or  riding.  He  can  kill  an  ox  with  his  fist!  He 
can  lift  seven  hundred!  There's  no  better  shot  than 
he  is.  When  I  was  little,  they  used  to  tell  me  about 
Farrabesche's  adventures.  One  day  he  was  taken  by 
surprise  with  three  of  his  companions;  they  fought,  I 
tell  you!  two  were  wounded  and  the  third  killed. 
Farrabesche  thought  he  was  taken;  nonsense!  he 
leaps  on  a  gendarme's  horse,  behind  the  man,  lashes 


208  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

the  horse  and  urges  him  to  a  dead  run  and  disappears 
with  his  arms  round  the  gendarme's  body;  he  hugged 
him  so  tight  that,  after  awhile,  he  was  able  to  throw 
him  on  the  ground,  remain  alone  on  the  horse  and 
make  his  escape  master  of  him!  And  he  had  the 
face  to  go  and  sell  him  ten  leagues  beyond  Limoges. 
That  time  he  remained  in  hiding  three  months, 
not  to  be  found.  They  had  offered  a  reward  of  a 
hundred  louis  to  the  man  who  should  bring  him  in." 
"Another  time,"  added  Colorat,  "speaking  of  the 
hundred  louis  the  prefect  of  Tulle  offered  for  him,  he 
helped  a  cousin  of  his,  Giriex  of  Vizay,  to  earn  them. 
His  cousin  betrayed  him  and  gave  him  up!  Oh,  yes! 
he  gave  him  up!  The  gendarmes  were  very  happy 
to  take  him  to  Tulle.  But  he  didn't  go  far;  they  had 
to  lock  him  up  in  the  jail  at  Lubersac,  and  he  escaped 
the  first  night,  taking  advantage  of  a  hole  made  by 
one  of  his  accomplices,  one  Gabilleau,  a  deserter 
from  the  seventeenth,  who  was  transferred  the  night 
before  he  intended  to  escape,  and  was  afterward 
executed  at  Tulle.  Those  adventures  gave  Farra- 
besche  a  famous  name.  The  gang  had  its  trusty 
friends,  you  understand !  Besides,  people  liked  the 
burners.  Dame!  those  fellows  weren't  like  the  ones 
we  have  to-day;  everyone  of  the  rascals  spent  his 
money  royally.  Fancy,  madame,  one  night  Farra- 
besche  was  chased  by  gendarmes,  d'ye  see;  well, 
that  time  he  escaped  by  staying  twenty -four  hours 
in  the  horse-pond  on  a  farm;  he  breathed  through  a 
straw  that  he  poked  up  to  the  surface  of  the  muck. 
What  was  that  little  inconvenience  to  a  man  who 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  20Q 

had  passed  whole  nights  on  slender  tree-tops,  where 
the  sparrows  can  hardly  cling,  watching  the  soldiers 
who  were  looking  for  him  pass  back  and  forth  below? 
Farrabesche  was  one  of  the  five  or  six  burners  that 
the  law  never  could  catch;  but,  as  he  belonged  in 
the  province  and  was  forced  to  join  them,  and  as  his 
only  reason  for  running  away  was  to  avoid  the  draft, 
the  women  were  on  his  side,  and  that's  half  the 
battle!" 

"So  Farrabesche  has  certainly  killed  several 
men?"  said  Madame  Graslin  again. 

"He  certainly  has,"  replied  Colorat;  "indeed, 
they  say  he  killed  the  passenger  in  the  mail-coach 
in  1812;  but  the  courier  and  postilion,  the  only  ones 
who  could  identify  him,  were  dead  at  the  time  of  his 
trial." 

"  To  rob  him?"  asked  Madame  Graslin. 

"  Oh!  they  took  everything;  but  the  twenty-five 
thousand  francs  they  found  belonged  to  the  govern- 
ment." 

Madame  Graslin  rode  a  league  without  speaking. 
The  sun  had  set,  the  moon  was  shining  upon  the 
gray  moor;  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  the  sea  at  high 
tide.  For  a  moment,  Champion  and  Colorat  looked 
at  Madame  Graslin,  whose  silence  made  them  anxious; 
they  were  shocked  to  see  on  her  cheeks  two  glisten- 
ing lines,  produced  by  much  weeping;  her  eyes  were 
red  and  filled  with  tears,  which  fell  drop  by  drop. 

"Oh!  don't  waste  your  pity  on  him,  madame!" 
said  Colorat.  "  The  fellow  has  had  a  good  time, 
he's  had  pretty  mistresses;  and  now,  although  the 
14 


210  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

police  are  keeping  an  eye  on  him,  he's  protected  by 
monsieur  le  cure's  esteem  and  friendship;  for  he  has 
repented,  his  conduct  at  the  galleys  was  most  ex- 
emplary. Everyone  knows  that  he's  as  honest  as 
the  honestest  man  among  us;  only  he's  proud,  he 
doesn't  want  to  run  the  risk  of  being  slighted,  and 
he  lives  quietly,  doing  good  in  his  way.  He's  laid 
out  a  nursery  of  ten  acres  for  you  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Roche-Vive,  and  he  plants  trees  in  the 
forest  wherever  he  sees  a  chance  for  one  to  grow; 
then  he  prunes  the  trees  and  picks  up  the  dead 
wood,  makes  it  into  bundles  and  keeps  it  to  give  to 
the  poor.  All  the  poor  people,  sure  of  finding  wood 
all  cut  and  ready  for  them,  go  and  ask  him  for  it  in- 
stead of  taking  it  themselves  and  trespassing  in  your 
forest,  so  that,  if  he  warms — chauffe — people  to-day, 
he  does  it  in  the  right  way!  Farrabesche  is  fond  of 
your  forest,  and  takes  care  of  it  as  if  it  was  his  own 
property." 

"And  he  lives! — all  alone?"  cried  Madame  Gras- 
lin,  hastily  adding  the  last  two  words. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  madame;  he  takes  care  of  a  little 
boy,  who's  close  on  fifteen,"  said  Maurice  Cham- 
pion. 

"Faith,  yes,"  added  Colorat,  "for  La  Curieux 
had  the  child  some  time  before  Farrabesche  gave 
himself  up." 

"  Is  it  his  son?"  asked  Madame  Graslin. 

"  Why,  everyone  thinks  so." 

"  Why  didn't  he  marry  this  girl?" 

"How  could  he?   they  would  have  caught  him! 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  211 

When  La  Curieux  learned  that  he  was  convicted, 
she  left  the  neighborhood." 

"Was  she  pretty?" 

"Oh!"  said  Maurice,  "  my  mother  declares  that 
she  looked  ever  so  much  like — let  me  see — another 
girl  who's  left  the  country,  too,  Denise  Tascheron." 

"  Did  she  love  him?"  inquired  Madame  Graslin. 

"  Oh!  just  because  he  was  a  chauffeur!"  replied 
Colorat;  "  women  love  anything  out  of  the  common. 
However,  nothing  ever  astonished  the  neighborhood 
more  than  that  love-affair.  Catherine  Curieux  was 
as  virtuous  as  the  Blessed  Virgin,  she  was  consid- 
ered a  pearl  of  virtue  in  her  village,  Vizay,  a  fortified 
village  of  La  Correze,  on  the  line  between  the  two 
departments.  Her  father  and  mother  are  farmers 
for  Messieurs  Brezac.  Catherine  Curieux  was  about 
seventeen  at  the  time  of  Farrabesche's  trial.  The 
Farrabesches  were  an  old  family  of  the  same  prov- 
ince, who  had  settled  on  the  Montegnac  estate  and 
kept  the  village  farm.  Farrabesche's  father  and 
mother  are  dead,  but  La  Curieux  has  three  married 
sisters,  one  at  Aubusson,  one  at  Limoges,  one  at 
Saint-Leonard." 

"Do  you  think  that  Farrabesche  knows  where 
Catherine  is?"  said  Madame  Graslin. 

"If  he  knew,  he  would  break  his  parole;  oh!  he 
would  go  to  her. — On  his  return,  he  sent  Monsieur 
Bonnet  to  her  father  and  mother  to  ask  for  the  little 
boy;  they  were  bringing  him  up,  but  Monsieur 
Bonnet  got  him.  " 

"  Does  no  one  know  what  has  become  of  her?" 


212  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"  Oh!  the  girl  thought  she  was  ruined;  she  was 
afraid  to  remain  in  the  neighborhood !  she  went  to 
Paris.  And  what  is  she  doing  there?  That's  the 
question.  To  look  for  her  there  is  like  trying  to  find 
a  marble  among  the  stones  of  this  plain." 

As  he  spoke,  Colorat  pointed  to  the  plain  of  Mon- 
tegnac  from  the  slope  up  which  Madame  Graslin 
was  then  riding,  within  a  few  steps  of  the  entrance 
to  the  chateau.  La  Sauviat,  Aline,  and  the  servants 
were  waiting  anxiously  there,  not  knowing  what  to 
think  of  such  a  prolonged  absence. 

"Well,"  said  La  Sauviat,  assisting  her  daughter 
to  dismount,  "  you  must  be  horribly  tired." 

"  No,  mother,"  said  Madame  Graslin,  in  such  an 
altered  voice  that  La  Sauviat  looked  at  her  daughter 
and  saw  that  she  had  been  weeping  bitterly. 

Madame  Graslin  went  to  her  own  room  with 
Aline,  who  had  her  orders  for  everything  connected 
with  her  life  within  the  chateau;  she  shut  herself  in 
her  room,  refusing  admission  to  her  mother,  and 
when  the  old  Auvergnat  insisted  upon  entering, 
Aline  said  to  her: 

"Madame  is  asleep." 

The  next  morning  Veronique  set  out  on  horseback, 
attended  only  by  Maurice.  In  order  to  reach  the 
Roche-Vive  as  speedily  as  possible,  she  took  the  path 
by  which  she  had  returned  the  night  before.  As 
they  rode  through  the  gorge  separating  that  peak 
from  the  last  hill  of  the  forest, — for,  as  seen  from 
the  plain,  the  Roche-Vive  seemed  to  stand  alone, — 
Veronique  told  Maurice  to  point  out  Farrabesche's 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  213 

house  to  her  and  to  wait  for  her  with  the  horses; 
she  wished  to  go  alone.  Maurice  guided  her,  there- 
fore, to  a  path  leading  down  the  slope  of  the 
Roche-Wve,  opposite  the  plain,  and  pointed  to  the 
thatch-covered  roof  of  a  dwelling  half-hidden  in 
the  mountain,  with  nurseries  immediately  below  it. 
It  was  then  about  noon.  A  faint  line  of  smoke  that 
rose  from  the  chimney  indicated  the  location  of  the 
house  at  which  Veronique  soon  arrived;  but  she  did 
not  show  herself  at  first.  At  sight  of  that  modest 
abode,  situated  in  the  middle  of  a  garden  surrounded 
by  a  hedge  of  dry  brambles,  she  remained  for  some 
moments  lost  in  thoughts  which  were  known  only  to 
her.  Below  the  garden  was  a  field  of  several  acres, 
of  irregular  shape,  with  here  and  there  the  spread- 
ing tops  of  apple,  pear,  and  plum  trees,  the  whole  en- 
closed by  a  quickset  hedge.  Above  the  house,  toward 
the  top  of  the  mountain,  where  the  soil  was  sandy, 
rose  the  yellowed  heads  of  a  grove  of  superb  chest- 
nuts. On  opening  the  open-work  gate,  made  of 
boards  that  were  almost  rotten,  that  admitted  to  the 
enclosure,  Madame  Graslin  saw  a  cow-shed,  a  small 
barnyard,  and  all  the  picturesque  living  accessories 
of  the  dwellings  of  the  poor,  which  certainly  have  a 
poetic  charm  in  the  country.  What  human  being  can 
look  unmoved  upon  the  linen  spread  upon  the  hedge, 
the  bunch  of  onions  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  the  iron 
kettles  drying,  the  wooden  bench  with  its  arbor  of 
honeysuckle,  and  the  leeks  upon  the  thatched  roof, 
which  are  a  part  of  almost  every  hovel  in  France,  and 
disclose  an  humble,  almost  vegetative  manner  of  life! 


214  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

It  was  impossible  for  Veronique  to  approach  her 
keeper's  house  unperceived,  for  two  fine  hunting- 
dogs  gave  tongue  as  soon  as  they  heard  the  rustling 
of  her  habit  among  the  dry  leaves;  she  took  the 
ample  skirt  over  her  arm  and  walked  toward  the 
house.  Farrabesche  and  his  child,  who  were  sitting 
on  a  wooden  bench  outside  the  house,  rose  and  re- 
moved their  hats,  assuming  a  respectful  attitude,  but 
without  the  slightest  trace  of  servility. 

"  I  have  been  told,"  said  Veronique,  looking  atten- 
tively at  the  child,  "that  you  have  my  interests  at 
heart:  I  wished  to  see  for  myself  your  house  and  the 
nurseries,  and  to  question  you  on  the  spot  as  to  the 
improvements  it  would  be  well  to  make." 

"  I  am  at  madame's  orders,"  Farrabesche  replied. 

Veronique  was  pleased  with  the  appearance  of 
the  child,  who  had  a  charming  face,  slightly  sun- 
burned, dark,  but  very  regular,  a  perfect  oval  in 
shape,  with  a  brow  of  the  purest  outline,  orange- 
hued  eyes  of  extreme  vivacity,  brown  hair  cut  short 
in  front  and  long  on  each  side  of  the  face.  He  was 
taller  than  most  children  of  that  age,  being  nearly 
five  feet.  His  trousers  and  shirt  were  of  coarse 
brown  holland;  his  waistcoat,  of  threadbare  blue 
cloth,  had  horn  buttons;  he  wore  a  jacket  of  the 
cloth  jocosely  known  as  Maurienne  velvet,  which 
Savoyards  wear,  heavy,  hob-nailed  shoes  and  no 
stockings.  His  costume  was  exactly  the  same  as 
his  father's,  except  that  Farrabesche  had  on  his 
head  a  broad-brimmed  peasant's  felt  hat,  and  the 
little  fellow  a  brown  woollen  cap.  The  child's  face, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  21 5 

although  bright  and  animated,  maintained  without 
effort  the  gravity  peculiar  to  those  who  live  in  soli- 
tude; he  had  been  compelled  to  bring  himself  into 
harmony  with  the  silent  life  of  the  woods.  Thus 
Farrabesche  and  his  son  had  developed  especially 
on  the  physical  side,  they  possessed  the  remark- 
able physical  faculties  of  savages:  keen  sight,  the 
habit  of  constant  attention,  great  self-control,  sure 
hearing,  visible  activity,  intelligent  dexterity.  In 
the  first  glance  that  the  child  bestowed  upon  his 
father,  Madame  Graslin  divined  one  of  those  attach- 
ments without  bounds,  in  which  the  instinct  is 
tempered  by  the  mind,  and  in  which  the  most 
militant  happiness  confirms  both  the  impulse  of  the 
instinct  and  the  scrutiny  of  the  mind. 

"  Is  that  the  child  of  whom  I  have  heard?"  said 
Veronique,  pointing  to  the  boy. 

"Yes,  madame." 

"Have  you  taken  no  steps  to  find  the  mother?" 
she  asked  Farrabesche,  leading  him  a  few  steps 
apart  by  a  gesture. 

"  Doubtless  madame  does  not  know  that  I  am 
forbidden  to  leave  the  commune  in  which  I  re- 
side." 

"And  have  you  never  had  news  of  her?" 

"At  the  expiration  of  my  time,"  he  replied, 
"the  commissioner  handed  me  a  thousand  francs 
which  had  been  sent  to  me  in  small  portions,  every 
three  months,  and  which  the  rules  did  not  permit 
me  to  have  until  the  day  of  my  discharge.  I  have 
thought  that  no  one  but  Catherine  could  have 


216  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

thought  of  me,  as  it  wasn't  Monsieur  Bonnet;  so  I 
have  kept  the  money  for  Benjamin." 

"And  Catherine's  parents?" 

"  They  have  thought  no  more  about  her  since 
she  went  away.  Indeed,  they  did  enough  in  taking 
care  of  the  little  one." 

"  Well,  Farrabesche,"  said  Veronique,  turning  to- 
ward the  house,  "  I  will  try  to  ascertain  if  Catherine 
is  still  alive,  where  she  is,  and  what  sort  of  life  she 
is  leading." 

"  Oh!  whatever  it  is,  madame,"  cried  the  man, 
tenderly,  "  I  shall  consider  it  great  good  fortune  to 
have  her  for  my  wife.  It  is  for  her  to  make  objec- 
tions, not  for  me.  Our  marriage  would  legitimize 
this  poor  boy,  who  does  not  as  yet  suspect  his 
position." 

The  look  that  the  father  bestowed  upon  the  son 
described  the  whole  life  of  those  two  beings,  aban- 
doned, or,  if  you  please,  voluntarily  isolated:  they 
were  all  in  all  to  each  other,  like  two  fellow-country- 
men in  the  midst  of  a  desert. 

"  So  you  love  Catherine?"  asked  Veronique. 

"  If  I  did  not  love  her,  madame,"  was  his  re- 
ply, "  in  my  position  she  is  the  only  woman  in  the. 
world  to  me." 

Madame  Graslin  turned  quickly  and  walked  to  the 
grove  of  chestnuts,  as  if  attacked  by  a  sharp  pain. 
The  keeper  believed  that  her  action  was  guided  by 
caprice  and  dared  not  follow  her.  Veronique  stood 
there  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  apparently  gaz- 
ing at  the  view.  She  had  before  her  all  that  part 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  217 

of  the  forest  that  covers  the  side  of  the  valley 
where  the  mountain  torrent  rushes  down,  at  this 
time  without  water,  filled  with  stones  and  resem- 
bling an  immense  moat,  confined  between  the  wooded 
mountains  of  Montegnac  and  another  parallel  chain 
of  hills,  very  steep,  bare  of  vegetation  except  for  a 
few  intrusive  trees  along  their  summits.  That  other 
chain,  with  its  sparse  birches,  juniper-bushes,  and 
furze-broom  of  desolate  aspect,  belongs  to  an  adja- 
cent commune  in  the  department  of  La  Correze.  A 
country  road,  which  follows  the  inequalities  of  the  val- 
ley, serves  as  a  boundary  line  for  the  arrondissement 
of  Montegnac  and  the  two  estates.  That  unfertile 
side  of  the  mountain,  with  a  northern  exposure,  is 
bordered,  as  by  an  enclosing  wall,  by  a  fine  piece  of 
woodland  which  extends  over  the  other  slope  of  that 
long  ridge,  whose  barrenness  is  in  striking  contrast 
to  that  upon  which  Farrabesche's  house  is  located. 
On  one  side,  angular,  twisted  shapes;  on  the  other, 
graceful  shapes,  swaying  with  a  stately  motion;  on 
the  one  side,  the  repellent,  silent  immobility  of  in- 
ferior soil,  maintained  by  horizontal  blocks  of  stone, 
by  bare,  denuded  cliffs;  on  the  other,  trees  of  vary- 
ing shades  of  green,  at  that  season  bare  of  foliage 
for  the  most  part,  but  with  straight,  shapely  trunks 
of  divers  hues,  springing  from  every  fold  of  the  soil, 
their  branches  waving  gracefully  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  wind.  A  few  trees  more  persistent  than  the 
others,  oaks,  elms,  beeches,  and  chestnuts,  were  still 
clothed  in  yellow,  brown,  or  violet-colored  leaves. 
Toward  Montegnac,  where  the  valley  widens  out 


218  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

tremendously,  the  two  slopes  form  an  immense 
horseshoe,  and,  from  the  spot  where  Veronique 
stood,  leaning  against  a  tree,  she  could  see  valleys 
arranged  like  the  benches  of  an  amphitheatre,  where 
the  tree-tops  rise  in  rows  above  one  another  like 
rows  of  spectators.  That  lovely  landscape  formed 
the  reverse  side  of  her  park,  in  which  it  was  after- 
ward included.  In  the  direction  of  Farrabesche's 
hut,  the  valley  narrowed  more  and  more,  and  ended 
in  a  gorge  about  a  hundred  feet  wide. 

The  beauty  of  that  view,  over  which  Madame 
Graslin's  eyes  wandered  mechanically,  soon  recalled 
her  to  herself;  she  returned  toward  the  house,  where 
the  father  and  son  were  still  standing  silently,  not 
attempting  to  explain  their  mistress's  strange  absence. 
She  examined  the  house,  which  was  built  with  more 
care  than  the  thatch  roof  would  lead  one  to  suppose, 
but  had  been  untenanted  since  the  Navarreins  had 
ceased  to  take  any  interest  in  the  estate.  With  the 
cessation  of  hunting,  the  necessity  for  keepers  came 
to  an  end.  Although  the  house  was  unoccupied  for 
more  than  a  hundred  years,  the  walls  were  sound; 
but  the  ivy  and  other  climbing  plants  had  enveloped 
it  on  all  sides.  When  he  had  obtained  leave  to  take 
up  his  abode  there,  Farrabesche  had  covered  the  roof 
with  thatch,  had  floored  the  interior  with  flagstones 
with  his  own  hand,  and  had  furnished  it  himself. 
Veronique,  as  she  entered,  saw  two  peasants'  beds, 
a  tall  walnut  wardrobe,  a  bread  cupboard,  a  buffet,  a 
table,  three  chairs,  a  few  brown  earthenware  dishes 
on  the  buffet,  and  such  utensils  as  were  absolutely 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  2IQ 

necessary.  Over  the  fireplace  were  two  rifles  and 
two  game-bags.  A  number  of  things  made  by  the 
father  for  the  child  caused  Veronique  the  deepest 
emotion:  a  man-of-war,  a  shallop,  a  carved  wooden 
cup,  a  wooden  box  of  magnificent  workmanship,  a  box 
inlaid  with  straw,  and  a  beautiful  crucifix  and  rosary. 
The  rosary  was  made  of  plum-stones,  with  a  face  of 
exquisite  delicacy  upon  each  one:  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Apostles,  the  Madonna,  Saint  John  the  Baptist,  Saint 
Joseph,  Saint  Anne,  and  the  two  Magdalens. 

"  I  do  that  to  amuse  the  little  fellow  in  the  long 
winter  evenings,"  he  said,  apologetically. 

In  front  of  the  house  jasmine  and  rose-bushes  were 
trained  against  the  wall  and  framed  in  blossoms  the 
windows  of  the  first  floor,  which  was  occupied  only 
as  a  place  of  storage  for  provisions;  he  had  hens, 
ducks,  two  pigs;  he  bought  only  bread,  salt,  sugar, 
and  a  few  other  groceries.  Neither  he  nor  his  son 
drank  wine. 

"All  that  I  have  been  told  about  you,  and  what  I 
see  here,"  said  Madame  Graslin  to  Farrabesche  at 
last,  "leads  me  to  take  an  interest  in  you  which 
will  not  fail  to  bear  fruit." 

"  I  recognize  Monsieur  Bonnet's  hand  in  this!" 
cried  Farrabesche,  in  a  melting  tone. 

"You  are  wrong;  monsieur  le  cure  has  told  me 
nothing;  chance,  or  God,  perhaps,  has  done  it  all." 

"Yes,  madame,  God  1  God  alone  can  perform 
miracles  for  an  unhappy  wretch  like  me." 

"  If  you  have  been  unhappy,"  said  Madame  Gras- 
lin, in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  child  could  not  hear, 


220  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

displaying  therein  womanly  delicacy  which  touched 
Farrabesche,  "  your  repentance,  your  conduct,  and 
monsieur  le  cure's  esteem  make  you  worthy  to  be 
happy.  I  have  given  the  necessary  orders  for  com- 
pleting the  large  farm  buildings  that  Monsieur  Gras- 
lin  had  planned  to  erect  near  the  chateau;  you  shall 
be  my  farmer,  you  shall  have  an  opportunity  to  ex- 
ert your  strength,  your  activity,  and  to  employ  your 
son.  The  procureur-general  at  Limoges  will  learn 
who  you  are,  and  the  humiliating  condition  of  your 
parole,  which  hampers  your  life,  will  disappear,  I 
promise  you." 

At  these  words,  Farrabesche  fell  upon  his  knees  as 
if  overwhelmed  by  the  realization  of  a  vainly  cher- 
ished hope;  he  kissed  the  hem  of  Madame  Graslin's 
riding-habit,  he  kissed  her  feet.  Benjamin,  seeing 
tears  in  his  father's  eyes,  began  to  sob  without 
knowing  why. 

"  Rise,  Farrabesche,"  said  Madame  Graslin,  "  you 
do  not  know  how  natural  it  is  that  I  should  do  for 
you  what  I  promise  to  do.  Did  not  you  plant  those 
evergreens?"  she  said,  pointing  to  clumps  of  fir- 
trees,  Northern  pines,  and  larches  at  the  foot  of  the 
dry  and  barren  hill  opposite. 

"Yes,  madame." 

"Then  the  soil  is  better  there?" 

"  The  water  is  constantly  undermining  those  rocks 
and  bringing  a  little  light  soil  over  to  your  land;  I 
have  made  the  most  of  it,  for,  all  along  the  valley, 
everything  bdow  the  road  belongs  to  you.  The 
road  serves  as  a  boundary  line." 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  221 

"  Does  much  water  flow  down  through  this  long 
valley?" 

"  Oh!  madame,"  cried  Farrabesche,  "  in  a  few 
days,  when  the  rainy  weather  comes,  you  may  be 
able  to  hear  the  roaring  of  the  stream  at  the  chateau! 
but  it  will  be  nothing  compared  to  what  happens 
when  the  snow  is  melting.  The  water  rushes  down 
from  those  parts  of  the  forest  that  are  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  mountain  from  Montegnac,  those 
long,  steep,  sloping  walls  of  the  mountain  on  which 
your  gardens  are  and  the  park;  in  fact,  all  the 
streams  from  these  hills  flow  into  it  and  form  a 
deluge.  Luckily  for  you,  the  trees  hold  back  the 
earth,  the  water  rolls  off  the  leaves,  which  are  like 
an  oil-cloth  carpet  in  autumn;  if  it  weren't  for  that, 
the  soil  would  be  washed  down  into  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  but  the  pitch  is  very  steep,  and  I  don't 
know  if  the  earth  would  hold  under  a  severe  strain." 

"Where  does  the  water  go?"  asked  Madame 
Graslin,  deeply  interested. 

Farrabesche  pointed  to  the  narrow  gorge  which 
seemed  to  close  the  valley  below  his  house. 

"  It  spreads  out  over  a  chalky  plateau  that  sepa- 
rates the  Limousin  from  La  Correze,  and  remains 
there  in  green  patches  several  months;  it  sinks  into 
the  pores  of  the  soil  but  very  slowly.  So  no  one 
lives  in  that  unhealthy  plain,  where  nothing  will 
grow.  No  cattle  can  eat  the  reeds  and  rushes  that 
grow  in  the  brackish  water.  That  great  moor, 
which  is  something  like  three  thousand  acres  in 
extent,  is  used  as  common  land  by  three  communes; 


222  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

but  it's  just  the  same  as  it  is  with  the  plain  of  Mon- 
tegnac, nothing  can  be  done  with  it.  Even  on  your 
territory  there  is  sand  and  a  little  soil  among  your 
rocks;  but  there  it's  pure  tufa." 

"  Send  for  the  horses,  I  want  to  go  and  see  it  all 
for  myself." 

Benjamin  started  off,  after  Madame  Graslin  had 
pointed  out  the  place  where  Maurice  was  waiting. 

"I  am  told  that  you  are  familiar  with  all,  even 
the  most  trifling  peculiarities  of  this  region,"  con- 
tinued Madame  Graslin;  "  will  you  explain  why  it  is 
that  the  wooded  slopes  of  the  mountain  on  the  side 
of  the  plain  of  Montegnac  send  down  no  streams  at 
all,  not  even  the  slightest  thread  of  water,  in  the 
rainy  season  or  during  the  melting  of  the  snow?" 

"Ah!  madame,"  replied  Farrabesche,  "monsieur 
le  cure,  who  is  so  interested  in  the  prosperity  of 
Montegnac,  guessed  at  the  explanation,  although  he 
had  not  the  proof.  Since  your  arrival,  he  has  told 
me  to  raise  the  beds  of  the  streams  here  and  there 
in  every  ravine  and  all  the  valleys.  I  had  just  re- 
turned yesterday  from  the  foot  of  the  Roche-Vive, 
where  I  had  been  examining  the  formation  of  the 
land,  when  I  had  the  honor  of  meeting  you.  I  heard 
the  horses'  steps  and  was  anxious  to  know  'who  was 
riding  hereabout.  Monsieur  Bonnet  is  not  merely 
a  saint,  madame,  he's  a  scientific  man.  '  Farra- 
besche,' he  said  to  me, — I  was  working  then  on  the 
road  up  to  the  chateau  that  the  commune  fin- 
ished; and  from  there  monsieur  le  cure  pointed  to 
the  whole  chain  of  hills  from  Montegnac  to  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  223 

Roche-Vive,  nearly  two  leagues  long, — '  Farrabesche, 
as  that  slope  doesn't  shed  any  water  into  the  plain, 
nature  must  have  made  a  gutter  that  carries  it  some- 
where else!' — Well,  madame,  that  is  such  a  simple 
idea  that  it  seems  foolish;  a  child  could  think  of  it! 
But  since  Montegnac  has  been  Montegnac,  not  a  soul, 
neither  owners,  nor  stewards,  nor  keepers,  nor  rich, 
nor  poor,  all  of  whom  alike  saw  that  the  plain  was 
barren  for  lack  of  water,  ever  asked  themselves 
where  the  waters  of  the  Gabou  go.  The  three  com- 
munes that  are  infested  with  fever  on  account  of 
stagnant  water  never  tried  to  find  a  remedy,  and  I 
myself  never  thought  about  it;  it  needed  the  man 
of'God." 

Farrabesche's  eyes  were  moist  as  he  said  the  last 
words. 

"Whatever  men  of  genius  discover,"  said  Ma- 
dame Graslin,  "is  so  simple  that  everyone  thinks  he 
could  have  discovered  it. — But,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"there  is  this  noble  peculiarity  in  genius,  that  it 
resembles  everybody,  and  nobody  resembles  it." 

"  I  understood  Monsieur  Bonnet  at  once,"  con- 
tinued Farrabesche;  "he  didn't  have  to  say  much 
to  me  to  explain  my  task.  The  fact  is  all  the 
stranger,  madame,  because,  on  the  side  of  your 
plain, — for  every  inch  of  it  belongs  to  you, — there 
are  fissures  of  considerable  depth  in  the  mountains, 
which  are  cut  by  ravines  and  by  very  deep  gorges; 
but,  madame,  all  these  clefts,  valleys,  ravines, 
gorges,  trenches,  down  which  the  water  flows, 
empty  into  a  little  valley  which  is  a  few  feet  lower 


224  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

than  the  level  of  your  plain.  To-day  I  know  the 
explanation  of  that  phenomenon,  and  this  is  it:  all 
along  the  base  of  the  mountains,  from  the  Roche- 
Vive  to  Montegnac,  there  is  a  sort  of  bank  varying 
from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  height;  it  is  a  kind 
of  rock  that  Monsieur  Bonnet  calls  schist,  and  there 
isn't  a  break  in  it  anywhere.  The  earth,  being 
softer  than  the  stone,  has  yielded  and  become  hol- 
lowed out,  so  that  the  streams  have  naturally  turned 
aside  into  the  Gabou,  through  the  clefts  in  each  of 
the  small  valleys.  The  trees,  the  shrubs,  the  un- 
derbrush hide  that  disposition  of  the  ground  from 
sight;  but,  after  following  their  direction  and  the 
marks  they  leave  behind  them,  it  is  easy  enough 
to  convince  yourself  of  the  fact.  So  the  Gabou  re- 
ceives the  water  from  both  slopes,  that  of  the  moun- 
tains, at  the  top  of  which  your  park  lies,  and  that 
of  the  cliffs  opposite  us.  According  to  monsieur  le 
cure's  idea,  that  state  of  things  will  cease  when  the 
natural  conduits  of  the  slope  that  overlooks  your 
plain  are  dammed  up  by  the  stone  and  earth  that 
the  water  carries  down  with  it,  and  are  made  higher 
than  the  bed  of  the  Gabou.  Then  your  plain  will  be 
flooded  like  the  common  lands  you  wish  to  go  and 
see;  but  it  will  take  hundreds  of  years.  And  is  it 
desirable  after  all,  madame?  If  your  soil  should  re- 
fuse to  absorb  that  mass  of  water,  as  these  common 
lands  refuse,  Montegnac  also  would  have  its  stagnant 
pools  which  would  poison  the  whole  neighborhood." 
"  If  I  understand  you,  the  places  monsieur  le 
cure  pointed  out  to  me  a  few  days  ago,  lines  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  225 

trees  on  which  the  leaves  are  still  green,  are  the 
natural  conduits  through  which  the  streams  flow 
down  into  the  Gabou?" 

"Yes,  madame.  Between  the  Roche-Vive  and 
Montegnac,  there  are  three  mountains,  consequently 
three  valleys  through  which  the  streams,  turned 
back  by  the  wall  of  schist,  flow  into  the  Gabou. 
The  belt  of  green  woods  at  the  base,  which  seems 
to  be  a  part  of  your  plain,  indicates  the  location  of 
the  gutter  which  monsieur  le  cure  divined." 

"  In  that  case,  the  thing  that  is  now  Montegnac's 
bane  will  become  its  blessing,"  said  Madame  Graslin 
in  a  tone  of  profound  conviction.  "And  as  you  have 
been  the  first  instrument  of  this  work,  you  shall  take 
part  in  it,  you  shall  seek  out  active,  devoted  work- 
men, for  the  lack  of  money  must  be  made  good  by 
devotion  and  hard  work." 

Benjamin  and  Maurice  arrived  as  Veronique  fin- 
ished that  sentence;  she  grasped  her  horse's  rein 
and  motioned  to  Farrabesche  to  mount  Maurice's 
horse. 

"Take  me,"  she  said,  "to  the  point  where  the 
waters  spread  out  over  the  common  lands." 

"It  is  the  more  advisable  for  madame  to  go 
there,"  said  Farrabesche,  "because,  by  monsieur 
le  cure's  advice,  the  late  Monsieur  Graslin  bought 
about  three  hundred  acres  at  the  outlet  of  that 
gorge,  and  there  the  water  leaves  a  deposit  which 
has  ended  by  producing  rich  soil  over  a  considerable 
space.  Madame  will  see  the  other  side  of  the  Roche- 
Vixe,  where  there  are  some  fine  woods,  and  where 
15 


226  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Monsieur  Graslin  would  undoubtedly  have  built  a 
farm-house.  The  most  suitable  spot  would  be  where 
you  lose  sight  of  the  stream  that  runs  near  my 
house — a  stream  that  you  could  use  to  advantage." 
Farrabesche  rode  first  to  show  the  way,  and  led 
Veronique  down  a  steep  path  to  the  spot  where  the 
two  hills  came  close  together,  then  diverged,  one  to 
the  east,  the  other  to  the  west,  as  if  driven  asunder 
by  a  shock.  The  narrow  gully  between,  piled  high 
with  stones,  among  which  tall  weeds  grew,  was  about 
sixty  feet  wide.  The  Roche-Vive  showed  a  perpen- 
dicular wall  of  granite,  upon  which  there  were 
absolutely  no  loose  stones,  but  the  summit  of  that 
impregnable  wall  was  crowned  with  trees,  the  roots 
of  which  hung  over  the  edge.  Pines  clung  to  the 
soil  with  their  forked  feet  and  seemed  to  hold  them- 
selves there  like  birds  clinging  to  a  branch.  The 
opposite  hill,  hollowed  out  by  time,  had  a  lofty,  yel- 
low, sandy  brow;  there  were  caverns  of  little  depth 
and  uncertain  hollows;  the  soft,  crumbling  rock 
was  of  the  color  of  yellow  ochre.  A  few  plants 
with  prickly  leaves,  and  at  the  base  some  burdocks, 
rushes,  and  aquatic  plants  indicated  the  northern  ex- 
posure and  the  thinness  of  the  soil.  The  bed  of  the 
mountain  stream  was  of  hard,  yellow  stone.  Evi- 
dently the  two  chains,  although  they  were  parallel 
and  seemed  to  have  been  split  apart  at  the  time  of  the 
catastrophe  that  changed  the  face  of  the  globe,  were, 
by  an  inexplicable  freak  of  nature,  or  for  some  un- 
known reason,  to  be  discovered  by  no  one  but  a 
genius,  composed  of  entirely  dissimilar  elements. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  227 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  particularly  strik- 
ing at  that  point.  From  there,  Veronique  saw  an 
immense  dry  plateau,  bare  of  vegetation,  and  with  a 
chalky  soil,  which  explained  the  absorption  of  the 
water,  dotted  with  patches  of  brackish  water  and 
with  spots  where  the  soil  had  scaled  from  the  rock. 
At  her  right,  were  the  mountains  of  La  Correze. 
At  the  left,  the  view  was  bounded  by  the  great 
hump  of  the  Roche-Vive,  covered  with  the  most 
beautiful  trees,  and  at  its  foot  a  level  field  of  about 
two  hundred  acres,  where  the  vegetation  was  in 
striking  contrast  to  the  dismal  aspect  of  that  deso- 
late plateau. 

"My  son  and  I,"  said  Farrabesche,  "dug  the 
ditch  you  see  down  yonder,  marked  by  the  tall 
grass;  it  joins  the  one  that  marks  the  boundary 
of  your  forest.  On  this  side,  your  estate  is 
bounded  by  a  desert,  for  the  nearest  village  is  a 
league  away." 

Veronique  rode  swiftly  to  that  desolate  plain, 
followed  by  her  keeper.  She  leaped  the  ditch, 
galloped  about  the  forbidding  tract,  and  seemed 
to  take  a  sort  of  savage  delight  in  contemplating 
that  vast  image  of  desolation.  Farrabesche  was 
right.  No  force,  no  power  could  produce  anything 
from  that  land;  it  rang  under  the  horses'  hoofs 
as  if  it  were  hollow.  Although  that  effect  was 
produced  by  the  chalk,  which  is  by  nature  very 
porous,  there  were  fissures,  too,  in  which  the  water 
vanished  from  sight,  on  its  way,  doubtless,  to  feed 
distant  springs. 


228  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"There  are  some  hearts  like  that!"  cried  Vero- 
nique,  drawing  rein  after  galloping  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour. 

She  sat  on  her  horse,  lost  in  thought,  in  the  midst 
of  that  desert,  where  there  were  neither  animals 
nor  insects,  and  which  no  birds  flew  across.  In  the 
plain  of  Montegnac,  there  were  at  least  loose  stones 
and  sand,  some  little  light  or  clayey  soil,  a  crust 
of  a  few  inches  in  which  roots  could  take  hold; 
but  the  tufa,  a  most  unnutritious  substance,  which 
had  ceased  to  be  earth  and  had  not  yet  become 
stone,  roughly  intercepted  the  glance;  so  that  there 
one  had  absolutely  no  choice  but  to  turn  his  eyes 
upon  the  boundless  expanse  of  sky.  Having  in- 
spected the  limit  of  her  forests  and  the  field  pur- 
chased by  Monsieur  Graslin,  Veronique  rode  slowly 
back  toward  the  point  where  the  Gabou  entered  the 
plain.  She  surprised  Farrabesche  looking  at  a  sort 
of  ditch  which  might  have  led  one  to  suppose  that 
some  speculator  had  tried  to  probe  that  desolate 
corner  of  the  earth,  imagining  that  nature  concealed 
treasure  there. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Veronique,  as  she 
detected  a  profoundly  sad  expression  upon  that 
manly  face. 

"  Madame,  I  owe  my  life  to  that  ditch,  or,  to  speak 
more  truly,  I  owe  to  it  the  time  to  repent  and  to  atone 
for  my  sins  in  men's  eyes." 

That  method  of  defining  life  resulted  in  nailing 
Madame  Graslin  beside  the  ditch,  where  she  stopped 
her  horse. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  22Q 

"  I  hid  there,  madame.  The  ground  is  so  reso- 
nant, that,  by  putting  my  ear  to  it,  I  could  hear,  more 
than  a  league  away,  the  gendarmes'  horses  or  the 
step  of  soldiers,  which  has  a  peculiar  quality.  I  used 
to  escape  by  the  Gabou  to  a  place  where  I  had  a 
horse,  and  1  always  kept  five  or  six  leagues  between 
me  and  those  who  were  hunting  me.  Catherine 
would  bring  me  food  there  during  the  night;  if  she 
didn't  meet  me,  I  always  found  bread  and  wine  there 
in  a  hole  covered  with  a  stone." 

That  reminiscence  of  his  wandering,  criminal  life, 
which  might  have  had  a  bad  effect  upon  Farrabesche, 
aroused  the  most  indulgent  compassion  in  Madame 
Graslin;  but  she  rode  quickly  toward  the  Gabou, 
whither  the  keeper  followed  her.  While  she  was 
measuring  with  her  eye  the  opening,  through  which 
the  long  valley  could  be  seen,  so  bright  and  joyous 
on  the  one  side,  so  desolate  on  the  other,  and  in  the 
background,  more  than  a  league  away,  the  terraced 
hills  beyond  Montegnac,  Farrabesche  said: 

"  In  a  few  days,  there  will  be  some  fine  waterfalls 
there!" 

"And  next  year,  at  the  same  time,  not  a  drop  of 
water  shall  pass  this  way.  I  own  the  land  on  both 
sides,  I  will  build  a  wall  high  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  hold  back  the  water.  Instead  of  a  valley 
which  produces  no  income,  I  will  have  a  lake,  twenty, 
thirty,  forty,  or  fifty  feet  deep,  a  square  league  in 
area,  an  immense  reservoir  which  will  furnish  water 
for  the  irrigating  canals  with  which  I  will  fertilize  the 
whole  plain  of  Montegnac." 


230  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"  Monsieur  le  cure  was  right,  madame,  when  he 
said  to  us  while  we  were  finishing  our  road:  '  You 
are  working  for  your  mother.'  May  God  bestow 
his  blessing  on  such  an  undertaking  !" 

"  Say  nothing  about  it,  Farrabesche,"  said  Madame 
Graslin;  "it  is  Monsieur  Bonnet's  idea." 

Returning  to  Farrabesche's  house,  Veronique  took 
Maurice  and  rode  back  at  once  to  the  .chateau.  When 
her  mother  and  Aline  saw  her,  they  were  impressed 
by  the  change  in  her  countenance,  for  the  hope  of 
conferring  a  lasting  benefit  upon  that  neighborhood 
had  restored  the  appearance  of  happiness.  Madame 
Graslin  wrote  to  Grossete'te  to  ask  Monsieur  de 
Granville  to  remove  all  restrictions  from  the  liberty 
of  the  poor  pardoned  convict,  furnishing  information 
as  to  his  conduct  which  was  confirmed  by  a  certifi- 
cate from  the  mayor  of  Montegnac  and  a  letter  from 
Monsieur  Bonnet.  She  added  to  the  letter  some 
facts  concerning  Catherine  Curieux,  urging  Grosse- 
tete  to  arouse  the  procureur-general's  interest  in 
the  good  action  she  contemplated,  and  induce  him  to 
write  to  the  prefecture  of  police  at  Paris  in  order  to 
find  the  girl.  The  mere  circumstance  of  the  remit- 
tance of  funds  to  the  galleys  where  Farrabesche  had 
undergone  his  punishment  should  furnish  a  sufficient 
clue.  Veronique  was  very  desirous  to  know  why 
Catherine  had  failed  to  join  her  son  and  Farrabesche. 
Then  she  told  her  old  friend  of  her  discoveries  by 
the  Gabou,  and  insisted  that  he  should  select  for  her 
the  skilful  man  for  whom  she  had  already  asked 
him. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  231 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  the  first  day  since  her 
installation  at  Montegnac  that  Veronique  had  been 
in  a  condition  to  hear  mass  at  the  church;  she  went 
there  and  took  possession  of  the  bench  that  she 
owned  in  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin.  When  she  saw 
how  bare  that  poor  church  was,  she  promised  herself 
that  she  would  set  aside  a  certain  sum  each  year  for  the 
necessary  repairs  and  for  decorating  the  altars.  She 
listened  to  the  sweet,  fervid,  angelic  voice  of  the  cure, 
whose  sermon,  although  his  words  were  simple  and 
within  the  intellectual  scope  of  his  hearers,  was  truly 
sublime.  The  sublime  comes  from  the  heart,  the  mind 
does  not  find  it,  and  religion  is  an  inexhaustible  source 
of  that  sublimity  which  is  free  from  false  glitter;  for 
Catholicism,  which  penetrates  and  changes  hearts, 
is  all  heart.  Monsieur  Bonnet  found  in  the  epistle 
for  the  day  a  text  to  enlarge  upon,  to  the  effect  that 
God,  sooner  or  later,  fulfils  His  promises,  blesses  His 
people,  and  encourages  the  good.  He  dwelt  upon  the 
great  benefits  that  would  accrue  to  the  parish  from 
the  presence  of  a  rich  and  charitable  woman,  ex- 
plaining that  the  duties  of  the  poor  to  a  benevolent, 
wealthy  person  were  as  extensive  as  those  of  the 
rich  to  the  poor,  that  they  should  mutually  assist 
each  other. 

Farrabesche  had  spoken  to  some  of  those  persons 
who  were  friendly  to  him,  as  a  result  of  the  Chris- 
tian charity  which  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  inculcated 
in  the  parish,  of  the  generous  treatment  of  which  he 
was  the  object.  Madame  Graslin's  behavior  toward 
him  was  the  subject  of  conversation  of  the  whole 


232  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

commune,  assembled  on  the  church  square  before 
mass,  as  the  custom  is  in  the  country.  Nothing 
could  have  been  better  adapted  to  win  for  her  the 
friendship  of  those  eminently  sensitive  minds.  And 
so,  when  Veronique  came  from  the  church,  she 
found  almost  the  whole  parish  drawn  up  in  two 
lines.  As  she  passed,  everyone  saluted  her  respect- 
fully, amid  a  profound  silence.  She  was  touched  by 
that  welcome,  but  she  had  no  idea  of  the  real  cause; 
she  saw  Farrabesche  among  the  last,  and  said  to 
him: 

"  You  are  an  expert  hunter,  do  not  forget  to  bring 
us  some  game." 

A  few  days  later,  Veronique  walked  with  the  cure 
in  that  part  of  the  forest  that  was  nearest  the 
chateau,  and  suggested  descending  by  the  terraced 
valleys  she  had  seen  from  Farrabesche's  house. 
She  then  became  absolutely  certain  of  the  location 
of  the  higher  affluents  of  the  Gabou.  As  a  result 
of  that  examination,  the  cure  noticed  that  the 
streams  that  watered  some  parts  of  upper  Mon- 
tegnac  came  from  the  mountains  of  La  Correze. 
That  chain  was  connected  with  the  mountain  at  that 
point  by  the  sterile  ridge  parallel  to  the  chain  of  the 
Roclie-Vwe.  The  cure  manifested  a  childish  joy  on 
returning  from  that  walk;  with  the  ingenuous  pleas- 
ure of  a  poet  he  looked  forward  to  the  prosperity  of 
his  dear  village.  Is  not  the  poet  the  man  who  real- 
izes his  hopes  beforehand?  Monsieur  Bonnet  felt  as 
if  he  were  already  mowing  his  hay,  as  he  pointed 
from  the  terrace  to  the  barren  plain. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  233 

The  next  day,  Farrabesche  and  his  son  returned 
laden  with  game.  The  keeper  brought  for  Francis 
Graslin  a  cup  carved  from  a  cocoanut,  a  veritable 
masterpiece,  representing  a  battle.  At  that  moment, 
Madame  Graslin  was  walking  on  the  terrace,  on 
the  side  overlooking  Les  Tascherons.  She  sat  down 
upon  a  bench,  took  the  cup,  and  gazed  a  long  while 
at  that  marvellous  piece  of  work.  Tears  came  to 
her  eyes. 

"You  must  have  suffered  much,"  she  said  to 
Farrabesche,  after  a  long  moment's  silence. 

"What  is  a  man  to  do,  madame,"  he  replied, 
"  when  he  finds  himself  in  that  place  without  the 
idea  of  flight,  which  sustains  the  courage  of  almost 
all  convicts?" 

"It  is  a  horrible  life!"  she  said,  in  a  compas- 
sionate tone,  inviting  Farrabesche  to  speak,  with 
gesture  and  glance  alike. 

Farrabesche  mistook  for  intense  and  sympathetic 
curiosity  the  convulsive  trembling  and  all  the  evi- 
dences of  emotion  which  he  noticed  in  Madame 
Graslin.  At  that  moment,  La  Sauviat  appeared 
in  one  of  the  paths  and  seemed  inclined  to  join 
them;  but  Veronique  drew  her  handkerchief,  shook 
her  head,  and  said,  with  an  animation  she  had  never 
before  shown  with  the  old  Auvergnat: 

"  Leave  me,  mother!" 

"  Madame,"  said  Farrabesche,  pointing  to  his  leg, 
"  for  five  years  I  wore  a  chain  fastened  to  my  leg  by 
a  great  iron  ring,  and  binding  me  to  another  man. 
During  my  time,  I  was  compelled  to  live  with  three 


234  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

different  convicts.  I  slept  on  a  wooden  camp-bed. 
I  had  to  do  an  extraordinary  amount  of  work  to 
procure  a  small  mattress,  called  a  serpentin.  Each 
room  contains  eight  hundred  men.  Each  of  the  beds, 
called  tolards,  holds  twenty -four  men,  chained  two 
by  two.  Every  night  and  every  morning  the  chain 
of  each  couple  is  attached  to  a  large  chain,  called 
the  filet  de  ramas.  That  chain  runs  along  the  foot  of 
the  bed  and  holds  all  the  couples  by  the  feet.  Even 
after  two  years,  I  wasn't  accustomed  to  the  clanking 
of  that  iron,  which  says  to  you  every  moment:  '  You 
are  at  the  galleys!'  If  you  go  to  sleep  for  a  moment, 
some  evil-minded  comrade  moves  or  quarrels,  and 
reminds  you  where  you  are.  One  has  to  serve  an 
apprenticeship  simply  to  learn  to  sleep.  In  fact,  I 
could  not  sleep  until  excessive  fatigue  exhausted  my 
strength.  When  I  was  able  to  sleep,  I  had  the 
nights,  at  least,  to  forget  my  surroundings.  In  that 
place,  madame,  forgetfulness  is  something !  Once 
there,  a  man  must  learn  to  satisfy  his  needs,  even  in 
the  merest  trifles,  in  the  manner  fixed  by  pitiless 
regulations.  Imagine,  madame,  what  effect  that  life 
produced  upon  a  young  man  like  me,  who  had  lived 
in  the  woods,  after  the  manner  of  kids  and  birds!  If 
I  had  not  eaten  my  bread  for  six  months  between 
the  four  walls  of  a  jail,  ah!  madame,  notwithstand- 
ing Monsieur  Bonnet's  touching  words, — and  I  may 
say  that  he  was  the  father  of  my  soul, — I  should 
have  thrown  myself  into  the  sea  when  I  saw  my 
companions!  In  the  open  air,  I  was  all  right;  but, 
once  in  that  room,  whether  to  sleep  or  to  eat, — for  we 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  235 

ate  there  at  troughs,  each  trough  prepared  for  three 
couples, — I  ceased  to  live;  the  fiendish  faces  and  the 
language  of  my  companions  were  always  unendura- 
ble to  me.  Luckily,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning 
in  summer,  and  at  half-past  seven  in  winter,  hot  or 
cold,  wind  or  rain,  we  went  out  to  the  fatigue,  that 
is  to  say,  to  work.  The  greater  part  of  that  life  is 
passed  in  the  open  air,  and  the  air  seems  very  good 
when  you  leave  a  room  in  which  eight  hundred 
convicts  swarm.  That  air,  remember,  is  sea  air! 
You  enjoy  the  sea  breezes,  you  are  on  good  terms 
with  the  sun,  you  take  deep  interest  in  the  clouds 
that  pass  overhead,  you  hope  that  the  day  will  be 
fine.  For  my  part,  I  was  interested  in  my  work." 

Farrabesche  paused;  two  great  tears  were  rolling 
down  Veronique's  cheek. 

"Ah!  madame,  I  have  told  you  only  of  the  roses 
of  that  existence!"  he  cried,  taking  Madame  Gras- 
lin's  expression  to  his  own  charge.  "  The  terrible 
precautions  adopted  by  the  government,  the  constant 
inquisition  practised  by  the  guards,  the  inspection  of 
the  irons  night  and  morning,  the  coarse  food,  the 
hideous  clothes  that  humiliate  you  every  instant,  the 
discomfort  during  sleep,  the  horrible  noise  of  four 
hundred  pairs  of  chains  in  an  echoing  room,  the 
prospect  of  being  fired  at  and  riddled  with  bullets, 
if  it  should  please  five  or  six  villains  to  rebel,  those 
terrible  details  are  nothing;  they  are  the  roses,  as  I 
told  you.  A  man,  a  bourgeois,  who  should  have  the 
misfortune  to  go  there,  would  die  of  chagrin  in  a 
very  short  time.  For  you  must  live  bound  to  another 


236  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

man !  You  are  forced  to  put  up  with  the  company  of 
five  men  at  meals,  and  of  twenty-three  during  sleep, 
to  listen  to  their  conversation!  That  society,  ma- 
dame,  has  its  secret  laws;  neglect  to  obey  them,  you 
are  murdered;  but  obey  them  and  you  become  a  mur- 
derer! You  must  be  either  victim  or  executioner! 
After  all,  if  they  would  kill  you  at  a  single  blow,  they 
would  cure  you  of  that  life;  but  they  are  accomplished 
in  doing  evil,  and  it  is  impossible  to  hold  out  against 
the  hatred  of  those  men;  they  have  absolute  power 
over  a  convict  who  offends  them,  and  they  can  make  of 
his  life  a  constant,  never-ending  torment,  worse  than 
death.  The  man  who  repents  and  wants  to  behave  is 
the  common  enemy;  first  of  all,  he  is  suspected  of  in- 
forming. Informing  is  punished  with  death  on  bare 
suspicion.  Each  room  has  its  tribunal,  before  which 
they  try  crimes  against  the  society.  To  refuse  to 
comply  with  the  customs  of  the  place  is  a  crime,  and 
a  man  in  that  position  is  subject  to  trial:  for  ex- 
ample, everyone  must  assist  in  all  escapes;  each 
convict  has  his  hour  to  escape,  at  which  hour  the 
whole  convict  force  owes  him  assistance  and  protec- 
tion. To  betray  what  a  convict  attempts  in  the 
interest  of  his  escape  is  a  crime.  I  will  not  say  any- 
thing of  the  horrible  morals  of  the  galleys;  it  is  liter- 
ally true  that  a  man  doesn't  belong  to  himself  there. 
The  government,  in  order  to  neutralize  attempts  at 
rebellion  or  escape,  always  couples  two  men  who  do 
not  agree,  and  thus  makes  the  torture  of  the  chain 
unendurable;  it  puts  men  together  who  cannot  endure 
each  other,  or  who  are  suspicious  of  each  other." 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  237 

"  How  did  you  endure  it?"  asked  Madame  Gras- 
lin. 

"Ah!  there  you  are,"  replied  Farrabesche,  "  I 
was  fortunate:  I  wasn't  drawn  by  lot  to  kill  a 
man  who  had  been  convicted,  I  never  voted  for 
any  man's  death,  I  was  never  punished,  I  was 
never  found  fault  with,  and  I  got  along  very  well 
with  the  three  companions  I  had  in  succession;  they 
all  three  were  afraid  of  me  and  liked  me.  But  you 
see,  madame,  I  was  famous  at  the  galleys  before  I 
got  there.  A  chauffeur!  for  I  was  supposed  to  be 
one  of  those  devils. — I  have  seen  the  burning  done," 
continued  Farrabesche,  after  a  pause,  and  in  a  low 
tone,  "  but  I  would  never  take  a  hand  in  it  or  ac- 
cept any  of  the  stolen  money.  I  was  a  refractory 
conscript,  that  was  all.  I  helped  my  comrades,  I 
kept  watch,  I  fought,  I  did  sentry  duty  in  advance 
of  the  main  body  or  in  the  rear;  but  I  never  shed 
a  man's  blood  except  in  self-defence!  Ah!  I  told 
Monsieur  Bonnet  and  my  lawyer  everything:  and 
the  judges  knew  well  that  I  was  no  assassin!  But  I 
am  a  great  criminal,  all  the  same;  nothing  of  what 
I  did  is  lawful.  Two  of  my  comrades  had  already 
spoken  of  me  as  a  man  capable  of  the  greatest 
things.  At  the  galleys,  you  see,  madame,  there  is 
nothing  equal  to  a  reputation  of  that  sort,  not  even 
money.  To  be  left  at  peace  in  that  republic  of 
misery,  an  assassination  is  a  passport.  I  did  nothing 
to  destroy  that  opinion.  I  was  sad  and  resigned;  it 
was  quite  possible  to  be  deceived  by  my  face,  and 
they  were  deceived.  My  moody  attitude,  my  silence, 


238  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

were  taken  for  tokens  of  ferocity.  Everybody,  con- 
victs, employes,  young  and  old,  respected  me.  I 
presided  over  my  room.  No  one  ever  disturbed  my 
sleep,  and  I  was  never  suspected  of  informing.  I 
complied  honestly  with  their  rules;  I  never  refused 
to  do  one  of  them  a  service,  I  never  showed  the 
least  disgust;  in  fact,  I  howled  with  the  wolves  out- 
wardly, and  prayed  God  within.  My  last  chain 
companion  was  a  soldier,  twenty-two  years  old,  who 
had  stolen  and  deserted  after  his  theft;  I  had  him 
four  years,  we  were  friends,  and  wherever  I  may  be, 
I  am  sure  of  him  when  he  comes  out.  The  poor 
devil,  Guepin  is  his  name,  was  'not  a  criminal,  he 
was  only  a  light-headed  fool;  his  ten  years  will  cure 
him.  Oh!  if  my  fellows  had  discovered  that  I  sub- 
mitted to  my  punishment  from  religion;  that,  when 
my  time  was  out,  I  intended  to  live  in  a  corner  with- 
out letting  anyone  know  where  I  was,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  forgetting  that  horrible  society  and  of  never 
putting  myself  in  the  way  of  anyone  of  them,  they 
might  have  driven  me  mad." 

"But,  in  that  case,  for  a  poor,  tender-hearted 
young  man,  impelled  by  passion,  who,  if  the  death 
sentence  were  remitted — " 

"  Oh!  madame,  there  is  no  complete  remission  for 
assassins!  They  begin  by  commuting  the  sentence 
to  twenty  years  at  hard  labor.  But  that  is  enough  to 
make  any  man  shudder,  especially  a  decent  young 
man!  nobody  can  tell  you  of  the  life  that  awaits 
you;  it  is  a  hundred  times  better  to  die!  Yes,  in  such 
a  case,  to  die  on  the  scaffold  is  good  fortune." 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  239 

"  I  did  not  dare  to  think  so,"  said  Madame  Gras- 
lin. 

Veronique  had  turned  as  pale  as  a  taper.  To  hide 
her  face  she  rested  her  forehead  on  the  balustrade 
and  remained  in  that  position  for  a  few  moments. 
Farrabesche  did  not  know  whether  he  ought  to  go  or 
stay.  Madame  Graslin  rose,  looked  at  Farrabesche 
with  an  almost  majestic  expression  and,  to  his  un- 
bounded amazement,  said  to  him,  in  a  voice  that 
stirred  his  heart: 

"  Thanks,  my  friend  ! — But  whence  did  you  derive 
the  courage  to  live  and  to  suffer?"  she  asked,  after  a 
pause. 

"Ah!  madame,  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  placed  a 
treasure  in  my  heart!  So  that  I  love  him  better 
than  anybody  on  earth." 

"  Better  than  Catherine?"  queried  Madame  Gras- 
lin, smiling  with  a  sort  of  bitterness. 

"Ah!  madame,  almost  as  much." 

"  How  did  he  set  about  it?" 

"  That  man's  voice  and  his  words  subdued  me, 
madame.  Catherine  brought  him  to  the  spot  I 
pointed  out  to  you  the  other  day  in  the  common 
lands,  and  he  came  to  me  alone.  He  was  the  new 
cure  of  Montegnac,  he  told  me;  I  was  his  parishioner; 
he  loved  me,  he  knew  that  I  was  simply  astray,  not 
lost  as  yet;  he  did  not  intend  to  betray  me  but  to 
save  me;  in  short,  he  said  things  to  me  of  the  sort 
that  go  to  the  bottom  of  your  heart !  And  you  see, 
madame,  that  man  orders  you  to  do  good  with  the 
power  of  those  who  want  to  make  you  do  wrong. 


240  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

He  told  me,  the  poor,  dear  man,  that  Catherine  was 
a  mother.  I  was  going  to  abandon  two  creatures 
to  shame  and  misery!  'Oh!  well,'  I  said  to  him, 
'they  will  be  like  me,  I  have  no  future.'  He 
answered  that  I  had  two  evil  futures  before  me, 
in  this  world  and  in  the  other,  if  I  persisted  in  not 
changing  my  mode  of  life.  Here  on  earth  I  should 
die  on  the  scaffold.  If  I  was  taken,  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  defend  me  before  the  court.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  I  should  take  advantage  of  the  new 
government's  indulgence  for  offences  growing  out  of 
the  conscription,  if  I  should  give  myself  up,  he  would 
leave  nothing  undone  to  save  my  life:  he  would  find 
a  good  lawyer  for  me  who  would  get  me  off  with  ten 
years'  penal  servitude.  Then  Monsieur  Bonnet  spoke 
to  me  about  the  other  life.  Catherine  wept  like  a 
Magdalen.  See,  madame,"  said  Farrabesche,  point- 
ing to  his  right  hand,  "  she  had  her  face  on  that  hand 
and  I  found  it  all  wet  with  tears.  She  begged  me  to 
live!  Monsieur  le  cure  promised  to  arrange  matters 
so  that  I  and  my  child  could  lead  a  peaceful,  happy 
life  here,  giving  me  his  word  that  I  should  be  free 
from  any  sort  of  affront.  Finally,  he  catechised  me 
like  a  little  boy.  After  three  visits  at  night,  he  made 
me  as  supple  as  a  glove.  Would  you  like  to  know 
why,  madame?" 

Farrabesche  and  Madame  Graslin  looked  at  each 
other,  neither  rightly  interpreting  the  other's  curi- 
osity. 

"Well,"  continued  the  poor  ex-convict,  "when 
he  went  away  the  first  time,  and  Catherine  went  to 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  241 

show  him  the  way,  I  was  left  alone.  I  felt  in  my 
heart  a  sort  of  refreshing  calmness,  a  pleasant  sen- 
sation that  I  had  not  felt  since  my  childhood.  It  re- 
sembled the  happiness  poor  Catherine  had  afforded 
me.  The  love  of  that  dear  man  who  had  sought  me 
out,  his  solicitude  for  me,  for  my  future,  for  my  soul, 
all  moved  me  deeply  and  made  me  a  different  man. 
A  light  shone  into  my  mind.  So  long  as  he  spoke  to 
me,  I  resisted  him.  What  could  you  expect?  he  was 
a  priest,  and  we  outlaws  didn't  eat  their  bread.  But 
when  the  sound  of  his  steps  and  Catherine's  died 
away,  oh!  then  I  was,  as  he  told  me  two  days  later, 
enlightened  by  grace;  from  that  moment  God  gave 
me  strength  to  endure  everything:  imprisonment, 
trial,  chains,  the  journey  and  life  at  the  galleys.  I 
relied  on  his  word  as  if  it  had  been  the  Gospel, 
I  looked  upon  my  suffering  as  a  debt  to  be  paid. 
When  I  suffered  too  keenly,  I  looked  ahead  ten 
years,  to  that  house  in  the  woods,  my  little  Ben- 
jamin and  Catherine.  Good  Monsieur  Bonnet  kept 
his  word.  But  I  missed  someone.  Catherine  was 
not  at  the  door  of  the  prison  nor  on  the  common 
lands.  She  must  have  died  of  grief.  That  is  why 
I  am  always  sad.  Now,  thanks  to  you,  I  shall  have 
useful  employment,  and  I  will  work  at  it,  body  and 
soul,  with  my  boy,  whom  I  live  for." 

"You  enable  me  to  understand  how  monsieur  le 
cure  has  succeeded  in  changing  this  commune." 

"  Oh!  no  one  can  resist  him,"  said  Farrabesche. 

"  True,  I  know  it,"  said  Veronique,  shortly,  dis- 
missing him  with  a  farewell  gesture. 
16 


242  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Farrabesche  retired.  Veronique  spent  a  great  part 
of  the  day  walking  up  and  down  that  terrace,  not- 
withstanding a  fine  rain  that  fell  until  evening.  She 
was  in  a  sombre  mood.  When  her  face  contracted 
so,  neither  her  mother  nor  Aline  dared  interrupt  her. 
She  did  not  notice  her  mother,  just  at  dusk,  talking 
with  Monsieur  Bonnet,  who  conceived  the  idea  of 
breaking  in  upon  that  fit  of  unhealthy  melancholy 
by  sending  her  son  to  call  her.  Little  Francis  went 
and  took  his  mother  by  the  hand,  and  she  allowed  him 
to  lead  her  away.  When  she  saw  Monsieur  Bonnet, 
she  made  a  gesture  of  surprise  in  which  there  was 
a  little  terror.  The  cure  led  her  back  to  the  terrace 
and  said  to  her: 

"Well,  madame,  what  were  you  talking  about 
with  Farrabesche?" 

To  avoid  a  falsehood,  Veronique  did  not  choose  to 
reply;  she  questioned  Monsieur  Bonnet  instead. 

"  Was  that  man  your  first  victory?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "His  conquest  should  give 
me  all  Montegnac,  I  thought,  and  I  was  not  mis- 
taken." 

Veronique  pressed  his  hand,  and  said  to  him,  in 
a  voice  that  was  full  of  tears: 

"From  this  day  I  am  your  penitent,  monsieur  le 
cure.  I  will  come  to-morrow  and  make  a  general 
confession." 

That  last  sentence  was  the  outcome  of  a  great 
internal  effort,  it  signified  that  she  had  won  a  pain- 
ful victory  over  herself.  The  cure,  without  reply- 
ing, escorted  her  to  the  chateau,  and  stayed  with 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  243 

her  until  dinner-time,  talking  about  the  extensive 
improvements  projected  in  Montegnac. 

"Agriculture  is  a  question  of  time,"  he  said, 
"and  the  little  I  know  about  it  has  taught  me  what 
profit  there  is  in  a  winter  advantageously  spent. 
The  rains  are  just  beginning,  very  soon  our  moun- 
tains will  be  covered  with  snow  and  your  opera- 
tions will  become  impossible;  so  hurry  Monsieur 
Grossete-te." 

Monsieur  Bonnet,  who  bore  the  burden  of  the 
conversation  and  gradually  drew  Madame  Graslin 
into  it,  to  divert  her  mind,  left  her  almost  recovered 
from  the  emotions  of  that  day.  Nevertheless,  La 
Sauviat  found  her  daughter  so  excited  that  she 
passed  the  night  with  her. 

The  next  day,  a  messenger  from  Limoges,  de- 
spatched by  Grossete"te  to  Madame  Graslin,  handed 
her  the  following  letters: 

TO  MADAME  GRASLIN 

"MY  DEAR  CHILD, 

"Although  it  was  difficult  to  find  horses  for  you, 
I  hope  that  you  are  pleased  with  the  three  I  sent 
you.  If  you  want  plough-horses  or  draught-horses, 
you  must  get  them  somewhere  else.  In  any  event, 
it  is  much  better  to  do  your  ploughing  and  hauling 
with  oxen.  Every  district  where  farm-work  is  done 
with  horses  loses  capital  when  a  horse  is  used  up; 
whereas  oxen,  instead  of  causing  a  loss,  afford  a 
profit  to  the  farmers  who  use  them. 


244  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"I  approve  your  undertaking  in  every  respect, 
my  child;  you  will  employ  in  it  that  consuming 
mental  activity  of  yours  which  was  turning  against 
you  and  wearing  you  out.  But  this  thing  that  you 
asked  me  to  find  for  you  in  addition  to  the  horses, 
this  man  who  is  capable  of  seconding  and,  above  all, 
of  understanding  you,  is  one  of  those  rarities  that 
we  do  not  raise  in  the  provinces  or  do  not  keep 
here.  The  education  of  high-grade  cattle  of  that 
sort  is  a  speculation  that  takes  too  much  time"  and 
is  too  risky  for  us  to  indulge  in.  Moreover,  people 
of  such  superior  mental  endowment  frighten  us,  and 
we  call  them  originals.  In  fact,  the  persons  who 
belong  to  the  scientific  category  from  which  you 
wish  to  take  your  collaborator  are  ordinarily  so  pru- 
dent and  lead  such  regular  lives  that  I  was  reluc- 
tant to  write  you  how  hopeless  the  quest  seemed  to 
me  to  be.  You  asked  me  for  a  poet,  or,  if  you  prefer, 
a  fool;  but  our  fools  all  go  to  Paris.  I  have  mentioned 
your  plan  to  several  young  clerks  in  the  land-reg- 
istry office,  to  contractors  for  earth-work,  and  to 
men  who  have  built  canals,  and  no  one  has  discov- 
ered any  profit  in  what  you  propose.  Suddenly, 
chance  threw  me  into  the  arms  of  the  very  man  you 
want,  a  young  man  upon  whom  I  believed  that  I  was 
conferring  a  favor;  but  you  will  see  from  his  letter 
that  benevolence  should  not  be  practised  at  random. 
A  good  action  is  the  one  thing  in  this  world  that 
should  be  most  carefully  considered.  One  never 
knows  if  what  has  seemed  a  good  thing  to  do  will 
not  prove  later  to  have  been  a  mistake.  To  practise 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  245 

benevolence  is,  as  I  know  to-day,  to  create  a  destiny 
for  one's  self." 

After  reading  that  sentence,  Madame  Graslin 
dropped  the  letters,  and  sat  for  some  moments  lost 
in  thought. 

"  O  my  God  !"  she  said,  "  when  wilt  Thou  cease 
to  smite  me  by  every  hand?" 

Then  she  took  up  the  sheets  once  more  and 
read  on: 

"Gerard  seems  to  me  to  have  a  cool  head  and 
a  warm  heart,  and  that's  the  sort  of  man  you 
need.  Paris  is  at  this  moment  all  upset  with  new 
doctrines,  and  I  should  be  overjoyed  to  prevent  this 
boy's  falling  into  the  traps  laid  by  ambitious  men  to 
deceive  the  instincts  of  our  noble-hearted  French 
youth.  Although  I  do  not  approve  of  the  decidedly 
benumbing  life  of  the  provinces,  no  more  do  I  ap- 
prove the  life  of  excitement  in  Paris,  this  ardor  for 
renovating  everything  which  urges  young  men  into 
new  paths.  You  alone  know  my  opinions:  in  my 
view,  the  moral  world  revolves  on  its  own  axis  like 
the  material  world.  My  poor  protege  asks  for  impos- 
sible things.  No  power  could  hold  its  own  before 
such  intense,  imperious,  arbitrary  ambition.  I  am 
a  believer  in  conservatism,  in  moderation  in  politics, 
and  I  am  not  fond  of  the  social  upheavals  to  which 
all  these  great  minds  subject  us.  I  confide  to  you 
the  principles  I  hold,  as  an  old,  dyed-in-the-wool 
monarchist,  because  you  are  discreet !  Here  I  hold 


246  THE   VILLAGE   CURE 

my  peace  among  a  lot  of  excellent  men  who,  the 
deeper  they  plunge,  the  more  they  believe  in  prog- 
ress; but  I  suffer  when  I  see  the  irreparable  misery 
already  inflicted  on  our  dear  country. 

"  So  I  answered  this  young  man's  letter  by  telling 
him  that  a  task  worthy  of  him  was  all  ready  for  him. 
He  will  come  to  see  you,  and  although  his  letter, 
which  I  enclose,  enables  you  to  form  a  judgment  con- 
cerning him,  you  will  want  to  study  him  further,  will 
you  not?  You  women  divine  many  things  from  the 
appearance  of  people.  Moreover,  every  man  whom 
you  take  into  your  service,  even  the  most  indifferent, 
ought  to  be  agreeable  to  you.  If  he  does  not  suit 
you,  you  can  refuse  to  employ  him;  but  if  he  should 
suit  you,  my  dear  child,  cure  him  of  his  ill-disguised 
ambition,  make  him  take  up  with  the  happy,  peace- 
ful life  of  the  fields,  where  charity  is  never-ending, 
where  the  qualities  of  great  and  strong  minds  can  find 
constant  exercise,  where  one  discovers  every  day  in 
the  products  of  nature  reasons  for  admiration,  and 
in  genuine  progress,  in  real  improvements,  an  occu- 
pation worthy  of  man.  I  am  well  aware  that  great 
ideas  engender  great  deeds;  but  as  that  class  of  ideas 
is  very  rare,  I  think  that,  as  a  general  rule,  acts  are 
of  more  value  than  ideas.  The  man  who  fertilizes  a 
little  plot  of  land,  who  brings  a  fruit-tree  to  perfec- 
tion, who  plants  grass  in  ungrateful  soil,  is  much 
above  those  who  seek  theories  for  mankind.  In  what 
respect  did  Newton's  science  change  the  lot  of  the 
inhabitant  of  the  fields?  O  my  dear,  I  used  to  love 
you,  but  to-day,  understanding  as  I  do  what  you  are 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  247 

about  to  undertake,  I  adore  you.  No  one  in  Limoges 
forgets  you,  everyone  admires  your  noble  resolution 
to  improve  the  condition  of  Montegnac.  Be  a  little 
grateful  to  us  for  having  the  spirit  to  admire  what  is 
beautiful,  without  forgetting  that  the  foremost  of 
your  admirers  is  also  your  first  friend, 

"  F.  GROSSETETE." 

GERARD  TO  GROSSETETE 

"  I  am  about  to  impose  melancholy  confidences 
upon  you,  monsieur;  but  you  were  like  a  father  to 
me  when  you  might  have  been  no  more  than  a  pa- 
tron. To  you  alone,  therefore,  to  you  who  have  made 
me  all  that  I  am,  can  I  say  what  I  have  to  say.  I 
am  suffering  from  a  painful  disease, — a  mental  dis- 
ease, by  the  way:  I  have  sentiments  in  my  heart 
and  thoughts  in  my  mind  which  make  me  utterly 
unfit  for  what  the  State  or  society  demands  of  me. 
This  will,  perhaps,  seem  to  you  like  ingratitude, 
whereas  it  is  simply  self -accusation.  When  I  was 
twelve  years  old,  you,  my  generous  godfather,  dis- 
covered in  the  son  of  a  simple  mechanic  a  certain 
aptitude  for  the  exact  sciences  and  a  precocious 
ambition  to  succeed  in  life;  therefore  you  assisted 
me  in  my  flight  toward  a  higher  sphere,  when  my 
original  destiny  was  to  be  a  carpenter  like  my  poor 
father,  who  did  not  live  long  enough  to  enjoy  my 
elevation.  Assuredly,  monsieur,  you  did  well,  and 
not  a  day  passes  that  I  do  not  bless  you;  so  that, 
perhaps,  I  am  wrong.  But  whether  1  am  wrong  or 


248  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

right,  I  am  suffering;  and  do  I  not  place  you  on  an 
eminence  by  addressing  my  complaints  to  you?  is  it 
not  equivalent  to  taking  you,  like  God,  for  a  supreme 
judge?  In  any  event,  I  trust  to  your  indulgence. 

"  Between  sixteen  and  eighteen  I  devoted  myself 
to  the  study  of  the  exact  sciences  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  myself  ill,  as  you  know.  My  future 
depended  upon  my  admission  to  the  Polytechnic 
School.  In  those  days,,  my  work  cultivated  my 
brain  beyond  all  measure:  I  nearly  killed  myself, 
I  studied  night  and  day,  I  presumed  further  upon 
my  strength,  perhaps,  than  the  nature  of  my  organs 
permitted.  I  was  determined  to  pass  such  satis- 
factory examinations  that  my  position  in  the  school 
would  be  assured,  and  sufficiently  advanced  to  en- 
title me  to  remission  of  .the  fees,  which  I  wished  to 
spare  you  the  necessity  of  paying.  I  triumphed ! 
I  shudder  to-day  when  I  think  of  the  terrible  con- 
scription of  brains  turned  over  to  the  State  every 
year  through  family  ambition,  which,  by  imposing 
such  cruel  study  upon  the  young  man  when  he  is 
just  completing  his  growth  in  every  direction,  is 
certain  to  produce  indescribable  misery,  killing  by 
lamplight  divers  precious  faculties  which  would  de- 
velop later  and  become  great  and  powerful.  The 
laws  of  nature  are  pitiless,  they  do  not  yield  at  all  to 
the  enterprises  or  wishes  of  society.  In  the  moral 
order  as  in  the  natural  order,  every  abuse  exacts 
payment  for  itself.  Fruit  demanded  prematurely 
from  a  tree,  in  a  greenhouse,  comes  at  the  expense 
of  the  tree  itself,  or  of  the  quality  of  its  product. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  249 

La  Quintinie  killed  orange-trees  in  order  to  give 
Louis  XIV.  a  bouquet  of  flowers  every  morning 
throughout  the  season.  It  is  the  same  with  intel- 
lects. The  exertion  of  brain-force  demanded  of  a 
growing  youth  is  discounting  his  future.  The  one 
essential  thing  that  our  epoch  lacks  is  the  legis- 
lative spirit.  Europe  has  had  no  true  legislators 
since  Jesus  Christ,  who  left  His  work  incomplete 
because  He  did  not  publish  His  political  code.  For 
instance,  before  the  establishment  of  special  schools 
and  their  method  of  recruiting  pupils,  was  the  prob- 
lem considered  by  any  of  those  great  thinkers  who 
carry  in  their  heads  a  conception  of  the  vast  extent 
of  the  total  relations  of  any  institution  with  the 
forces  of  humanity,  who  weigh  its  advantages  and 
inconveniences,  who  study  the  laws  of  the  future 
in  the  past?  Did  anyone  make  investigations  as 
to  the  fate  of  those  exceptional  men  who,  by  a  fatal 
chance,  became  versed  in  the  science  of  humanity 
before  their  time?  Was  the  scarcity  of  such  men 
taken  account  of?  Was  their  end  studied?  Was 
any  attempt  made  to  ascertain  the  means  by  which 
they  were  enabled  to  endure  the  perpetual  pressure 
of  thought?  How  many,  like  Pascal,  have  died 
prematurely,  worn  out  by  their  knowledge!  Was 
any  inquiry  made  as  to  the  age  at  which  those  who 
lived  many  years  began  their  studies?  Even  as  I 
write,  has  anyone  ever  ascertained,  does  anyone 
know,  the  internal  arrangement  of  the  brains  of  those 
who  can  endure  the  premature  assault  of  human 
knowledge?  Does  anyone  suspect  that  that  question 


2$0  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

depends  upon  the  physiology  of  man,  before  every- 
thing? Well,  I  believe,  now,  that  the  general  rule 
is  to  remain  a  long  while  in  the  vegetative  state 
of  adolescence.  In  most  of  those  exceptional  cases 
in  which  the  organs  are  forced  in  adolescence,  the 
result  is  a  shortening  of  life.  In  like  manner,  the 
man  of  genius  who  objects  to  the  precocious  exer- 
cise of  his  faculties  must  be  an  exception  within 
an  exception.  If  I  am  in  accord  with  social  facts, 
and  the  results  of  medical  observation,  the  method 
adopted  in  France  for  recruiting  the  technical  schools 
is  a  work  of  distinction  after  the  manner  of  La 
Quintinie's,  but  applied  to  the  noblest  subjects  in 
each  generation. 

"  But  I  continue,  and  I  will  subjoin  my  doubts  to 
each  division  of  facts.  Having  been  admitted  to  the 
School,  I  worked  afresh  and  with  much  more  ardor, 
in  order  to  end  my  course  as  triumphantly  as  I 
began.  From  nineteen  to  twenty-one,  therefore, 
I  developed  all  my  aptitudes,  fed  my  faculties  by 
constant  exercise.  Those  two  years  were  a  fitting 
crown  to  the  first  three,  during  which  I  had  simply 
prepared  to  do  well.  Imagine  my  pride,  therefore, 
when  I  had  won  the  right  to  choose  whichever  career 
suited  me  best,  military  or  naval  engineering,  the 
artillery  or  general  staff,  the  department  of  mines  or 
of  roads  and  bridges!  By  your  advice,  I  selected 
the  roads  and  bridges.  But  how  many  young  men 
fail  where  I  triumphed !  Do  you  know  that,  from 
year  to  year,  the  State  increases  its  scientific  re- 
quirements with  relation  to  the  School,  that  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  251 

studies  become  more  difficult  and  less  attractive,  as 
time  goes  on?  The  preparatory  labor  which  I  per- 
formed so  faithfully  was  nothing  compared  to  the 
unremitting  study  at  the  School,  which  is  intended  to 
familiarize  young  men  of  nineteen  to  twenty-one 
years  with  the  whole  range  of  the  physical,  mathe- 
matical, astronomical,  and  chemical  sciences,  includ- 
ing their  nomenclature.  The  State,  which,  in  France, 
seems  inclined  to  substitute  itself  for  the  paternal 
power  in  many  things,  is  without  bowels  or  paternal 
feeling;  it  makes  its  experiments  in  anima  vili.  It 
never  asks  for  the  appalling  statistics  of  the  misery  it 
has  caused;  it  has  not  for  thirty-six  years  made  any 
investigations  as  to  the  number  of  brain  fevers  that 
declare  themselves,  or  as  to  the  despair  that  bursts 
forth  among  those  young  men,  or  the  mental  ruin 
that  decimates  them.  I  dwell  upon  this  painful  side 
of  the  question,  for  it  is  one  of  the  precedent  condi- 
tions of  the  final  result:  for  some  weak  brains  the  re- 
sult is  brought  nearer  instead  of  being  postponed.  You 
know,  too,  that  those  youths  in  whom  conception  is 
slow,  or  who  are  temporarily  benumbed  by  excessive 
work,  may  have  to  remain  at  the  School  three  years 
instead  of  two,  and  that  they  are  viewed  with  a  sus- 
picion by  no  means  complimentary  to  their  capacity. 
Lastly,  there  is  a  chance  that  young  men,  who  may 
later  show  themselves  to  possess  superior  attain- 
ments, may  leave  the  School  without  employment, 
because  they  fail  to  show  the  requisite  amount  of 
knowledge  at  the  final  examinations.  They  are 
called  dry  fruit,  and  Napoleon  made  sub-lieutenants 


2$2  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

of  them!  To-day  the  dry  fruit  represents  an  enor- 
mous loss  in  capital  for  families,  and  time  lost  for 
the  individual.  But,  at  all  events,  I  triumphed  !  At 
twenty-one  I  had  mastered  mathematical  science  to 
the  point  to  which  men  of  genius  have  developed  it, 
and  I  was  impatient  to  distinguish  myself  by  con- 
tinuing their  work.  That  desire  is  so  natural  that 
almost  all  the  pupils,  when  they  leave  the  School, 
have  their  eyes  fixed  on  that  moral  sun  called  glory! 
The  first  thought  of  all  of  us  is  to  be  Newtons,  La- 
places,  or  Vaubans.  Such  are  the  efforts  that  France 
demands  of  the  young  man  who  graduates  from  that 
famous  School ! 

"  Now  let  us  follow  the  destinies  of  these  men, 
selected  with  so  much  care  from  the  whole  genera- 
tion. At  twenty-one  years  a  young  man  dreams  of 
his  whole  life,  he  expects  marvels  of  himself.  I 
entered  the  School  of  Roads  and  Bridges,  I  was  a 
pupil  in  engineering.  I  studied  the  science  of  bridge- 
building,  and  with  such  zeal ! — you  surely  remember. 
I  left  the  school  in  1826,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
four,  as  yet  only  a  candidate  for  a  position  as 
engineer;  the  State  allowed  me  a  hundred  and  fifty 
francs  a  month.  The  humblest  book-keeper  earns 
that  amount  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  in  Paris,  work- 
ing only  four  hours  a  day.  By  the  most  extraor- 
dinary good  luck,  perhaps  because  of  the  distinction 
my  faithful  study  had  earned  for  me,  I  was  ap- 
pointed an  ordinary  engineer  in  1828,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-six.  I  was  sent  to  a  certain  sub-prefecture, 
you  know  where,  with  a  salary  of  twenty-five 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  253 

hundred  francs.  The  question  of  money  is  of  no 
importance.  Certainly  my  lot  is  more  brilliant 
than  could  be  anticipated  for  the  son  of  a  carpenter; 
but  what  grocer's  son,  planted  in  a  shop  at  sixteen, 
would  not  be  on  the  road  to  an  independent  fortune 
at  twenty -six?  I  understood  then  to  what  end  that 
cruel  development  of  the  intelligence,  those  hercu- 
lean efforts  demanded  by  the  State,  were  directed. 
The  State  set  me  to  measuring  paving-stones  and 
piles  of  rocks  on  the  highways.  I  had  to  keep  in 
repair  and  sometimes  to  build  culverts  and  small 
one-arched  bridges,  to  lay  out  driftways,  to  clean 
out  and  sometimes  to  dig  ditches.  In  the  office  I 
had  to  answer  questions  concerning  highway  lines, 
or  the  planting  and  felling  of  trees.  Such  are,  in 
fact,  the  principal  and  only  occupations  of  ordinary 
engineers,  with  the  occasional  addition  of  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  levelling,  which  they  compel  us 
to  do  ourselves,  and  which  the  least  of  our  assist- 
ants, with  his  experience  alone,  always  does  much 
better  than  we,  with  all  our  scientific  learning. 
There  are  nearly  four  hundred  of  us  ordinary  engi- 
neers and  pupils  in  engineering,  and  as  there  are 
only  a  little  over  a  hundred  engineers-in-chief,  all 
the  ordinary  engineers  cannot  rise  to  that  higher 
grade;  nor  is  there  any  rank  higher  than  engineer- 
in-chief  to  absorb  any  of  them;  for  we  cannot  count 
as  a  means  of  absorption  a  dozen  or  fifteen  general 
or  divisional  inspectorships,  officials  almost  as  useless 
in  our  corps  as  colonels  are  in  the  artillery,  where 
the  battery  is  the  unit.  The  ordinary  engineer, 


254  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

like  the  captain  of  artillery,  knows  the  whole  sci- 
ence; there  should  be  nothing  above  him  except  a 
departmental  head  to  connect  the  eighty-six  engi- 
neers with  the  government;  for  a  single  engineer, 
assisted  by  two  students,  is  enough  for  a  depart- 
ment. The  existence  of  a  hierarchy  in  such  corps 
results  in  subordinating  active  talents  to  old,  played- 
out  talents  who,  believing  that  they  are  improving 
them,  change,  or  ordinarily  emasculate,  ideas  which 
are  submitted  to  them,  perhaps  with  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  not  having  their  own  existence  threatened; 
for  that  seems  to  me  to  be  the  only  object  served  by 
the  General  Council  of  Roads  and  Bridges  in  France, 
so  far  as  its  influence  upon  public  works  is  concerned. 
"  Let  us  suppose,  however,  that  when  between 
thirty  and  forty  I  become  an  engineer  of  the  first- 
class,  and  engineer-in-chief  before  I  am  fifty.  Alas!  I 
can  see  my  future,  it  is  written  so  that  my  eyes  can 
read  it.  My  engineer-in-chief  is  sixty  years  old;  he 
graduated  with  honor,  as  I  did,  from  that  famous 
School;  he  has  grown  gray  in  two  departments  doing 
what  I  am  doing;  he  has  become  the  most  common- 
place man  it  is  possible  to  imagine;  he  has  fallen  from 
the  height  to  which  he  had  raised  himself;  more  than 
that,  he  has  not  kept  abreast  of  the  science :  the  sci- 
ence has  progressed,  he  has  remained  stationary;  nay, 
more,  he  has  forgotten  what  he  knew!  The  man  who 
began  at  twenty-two,  with  all  the  internal  symptoms 
of  superior  talent,  has  to-day  only  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  it.  In  the  first  place,  being  specially 
directed  toward  the  exact  sciences  and  mathematics 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  255 

by  his  education,  he  neglected  everything  that  was 
not  part  of  his  game.  You  cannot  imagine  how 
utterly  ignorant  he  is  in  the  other  branches  of  hu- 
man knowledge.  Figuring  has  withered  his  heart 
and  his  brain.  I  do  not  dare  whisper  to  anyone  but 
you  the  secret  of  his  nonentity,  sheltered  as  it  is  by 
the  renown  of  the  Polytechnic  School.  This  etiquette 
is  an  imposing  thing,  and,  on  the  faith  of  prejudice, 
no  one  dares  suggest  a  doubt  concerning  his  capacity. 
To  you  alone  I  will  say  that  the  loss  of  such  talents 
as  he  possessed  was  responsible  for  his  making  the 
department  spend  a  million  instead  of  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  on  a  single  contract.  I  wanted  to 
protest,  to  open  the  prefect's  eyes;  but  an  engineer 
who  is  a  friend  of  mine  cited  the  example  of  one  of 
our  comrades  who  has  become  the  bete  noire  of  the 
administration  for  doing  a  thing  of  that  sort.  'Would 
you  like  it  very  well,  if  you  were  engineer-in-chief, 
to  have  your  mistakes  shown  up  by  your  subor- 
dinate?' he  said.  'Your  chief  will  soon  be  a  divi- 
sional inspector.  As  soon  as  one  of  us  makes  a 
stupid  blunder,  the  government,  which  can  never  be 
in  the  wrong,  withdraws  him  from  active  service  and 
makes  him  an  inspector.' — That  is  how  the  reward 
due  to  talent  falls  to  the  lot  of  no  talent.  All  France 
saw  the  disaster  that  befell  the  first  suspension- 
bridge  that  an  engineer,  a  member  of  the  Academy 
of  Sciences,  ever  tried  to  construct;  it  was  right  in 
the  heart  of  Paris.  It  was  a  deplorable  disaster, 
caused  by  errors  in  construction  which  would  not 
have  been  made  by  the  builder  of  the  Briare  Canal 


256  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

under  Henri  IV.,  nor  by  the  monk  who  built  Pont 
Royal,  and  which  the  government  smoothed  over  by 
giving  that  engineer  a  seat  in  the  General  Council. 
Are  the  special  schools,  then,  naught  but  great  fac- 
tories of  incapacity?  This  subject  demands  extended 
consideration.  If  I  am  right,  there  should  be  a  re- 
form, in  the  method  of  procedure  at  least,  for  I  dare 
not  suggest  a  doubt  as  to  the  usefulness  of  the 
schools.  But,  if  we  look  back  at  the  past,  do  we 
see  that  France  in  the  old  days  ever  lacked  the 
eminent  talents  essential  for  the  welfare  of  the 
State,  such  talents  as  the  State  would  fain  pro- 
duce to-day  by  the  Monge  process?  Did  Vauban 
graduate  from  any  other  School  than  the  great 
school  called  vocation?  Who  was  Riquet's  teacher? 
When  men  of  genius,  prompted  by  vocation,  rise 
as  they  do  above  their  social  surroundings,  they  are 
almost  always  completely  equipped;  in  such  cases 
man  is  not  simply  a  being  created  for  a  special 
purpose,  he  has  the  gift  of  universality.  I  do  not 
believe  that  an  engineer  graduated  from  the  School 
could  ever  build  one  of  those  miracles  of  architec- 
ture which  we  owe  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  mechani- 
cian, architect,  painter,  one  of  the  inventors  of  the 
science  of  hydraulics  and  an  indefatigable  builder  of 
canals.  Trained  in  their  early  youth  to  the  strict 
simplicity  of  the  theorem,  the  young  men  whom  the 
School  sends  out  lose  the  perception  of  grace  and 
ornamentation;  a  column  seems  to  them  of  no  use, 
they  go  back  to  the  point  where  art  begins,  pinning 
their  faith  to  what  is  useful.  But  all  this  is  nothing 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  257 

compared  to  the  disease  that  is  undermining  me!  I 
feel  that  the  most  appalling  metamorphosis  is  taking 
place  within  me;  I  feel  that  my  strength  and  my  facul- 
ties are  diminishing,  that,  having  been  stretched  be- 
yond endurance,  they  are  giving  way.  I  am  allowing 
the  prosaic  character  of  my  life  to  get  the  better  of  me. 
I,  who,  by  the  nature  of  my  efforts,  sought  to  create 
for  myself  a  great  destiny,  find  myself  face  to  face 
with  the  most  trivial  duties,  verifying  the  measure 
of  piles  of  stones,  inspecting  roads,  checking  in- 
voices of  supplies.  I  do  not  have  work  enough  to 
employ  me  two  hours  a  day.  I  see  my  colleagues 
marry,  adopt  a  mode  of  life  contrary  to  the  spirit 
of  modern  society.  Is  my  ambition  unbounded?  I 
would  like  to  be  useful  to  my  country.  The  coun- 
try called  upon  me  to  put  forth  my  utmost  strength; 
it  bade  me  become  one  of  the  representatives  of  all 
the  sciences,  and  here  I  am  standing  with  folded 
arms  in  thfe  depths  of  a  province!  I  am  not  allowed 
to  leave  the  district  in  which  I  am  planted,  in  order 
to  exert  my  faculties  by  devising  useful  projects. 
Concealed  but  real  disfavor  is  the  assured  reward 
of  that  one  of  us  who,  yielding  to  his  inspirations, 
goes  beyond  what  his  special  service  demands  of 
him.  In  such  a  case,  the  favor  that  a  man  of  supe- 
rior parts  must  expect  is  disregard  of  his  talent,  of 
his  presumption,  and  the  interment  of  his  project  in 
the  archives  at  headquarters.  What  will  be  the 
reward  of  Vicat,  the  man  who  is  responsible  for  the 
only  real  progress  the  science  of  practical  construc- 
tion has  made? 
17 


258  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"  The  General  Council  of  Roads  and  Bridges, 
composed  in  part  of  men  worn  out  by  long  and 
sometimes  honorable  services,  but  who  have  no 
strength  left  except  for  negation  and  who  strike 
out  what  they  are  no  longer  able  to  understand, 
is  the  extinguisher  used  to  annihilate  the  projects 
of  ambitious  minds.  That  council  seems  to  have 
been  created  to  paralyze  the  arms  of  the  noble 
band  of  young  men  who  simply  ask  to  work,  who 
wish  to  serve  France!  Monstrous  things  are  going 
on  in  Paris;  the  future  of  a  province  depends  upon 
the  visa  of  those  centralizers  who,  by  intrigues 
which  I  have  not  time  to  describe,  check  the  exe- 
cution of  the  best  plans;  the  best  being  those  which 
offer  the  most  resistance  to  the  avidity  of  companies 
or  speculators,  which  clash  with  or  overturn  the 
greatest  number  of  abuses,  and  abuses  are  always 
stronger  in  France  than  reforms.  Five  years  hence 
I  shall  cease  to  be  myself,  I  shall  see  the  extinction 
of  my  ambition,  of  my  noble  desire  to  employ  the 
faculties  which  my  country  has  asked  me  to  develop, 
and  which  will  rust  in  the  obscure  corner  where  I 
live.  Reckoning  upon  the  most  fortunate  chances, 
the  future  seems  to  me  to  have  little  in  store. 

"  I  have  taken  advantage  of  a  furlough  to  come 
to  Paris;  I  wish  to  change  my  occupation,  to  find  an 
opportunity  to  employ  my  energy,  my  activity,  and 
my  knowledge.  I  will  send  in  my  resignation,  I 
will  go  into  the  provinces  where  men  of  my  special 
class  are  lacking,  and  where  such  men  may  be  able 
to  accomplish  great  things.  If  nothing  of  the  sort 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  259 

is  possible,  I  will  take  hold  of  one  of  the  new  doc- 
trines which  seem  likely  to  bring  about  important 
changes  in  the  present  social  order,  by  more  judi- 
cious direction  of  the  workers.  What  are  we,  if 
not  workers  without  work,  tools  in  a  storehouse? 
We  are  organized  as  if  it  were  our  province  to  move 
the  globe,  and  we  have  nothing  to  do!  I  feel  within 
me  something  great  which  is  growing  smaller,  which 
is  at  the  point  of  death,  and  I  tell  you  so  with 
mathematical  frankness. 

"Before  changing  my  condition,  I  would  like  to 
have  your  opinion;  I  look  upon  myself  as  your  child, 
and  I  shall  never  take  any  important  step  without 
submitting  it  to  you,  for  your  experience  equals 
your  kindness.  I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  the 
State,  after  obtaining  the  men  of  special  qualifica- 
tions, cannot  invent  monuments  to  be  reared  for 
their  express  benefit;  it  has  not  three  hundred  bridges 
a  year  to  be  built,  and  it  can  no  more  order  monu- 
ments constructed  for  the  benefit  of  its  engineers 
than  it  can  declare  war  in  order  to  make  an  oppor- 
tunity for  officers  to  win  battles  and  blossom  out  as 
great  captains;  but  that  being  so,  as  the  man  of 
genius  has  never  failed  to  appear  when  circum- 
stances called  for  him,  as,  whenever  there  is  much 
money  to  be  spent  or  great  things  to  be  accom- 
plished, one  of  those  unique  men  always  comes 
forth  from  the  crowd,  and  as,  in  that  class  especially, 
one  Vauban  is  enough,  nothing  shows  more  conclu- 
sively the  uselessness  of  the  institution.  And  then, 
too,  when  they  have  spurred  such  a  man  on  by  so 


2(50  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

many  preparations,  how  can  they  fail  to  understand 
that  he  will  struggle  manfully  before  allowing  him- 
self to  be  thrust  out  of  sight?  Is  that  a  wise  policy? 
Is  it  not  fanning  ambitions  already  ablaze?  Have 
they  told  all  those  effervescing  brains  that  they 
must  be  able  to  calculate  everything  except  their 
own  destinies?  And  so  it  is  that,  among  those  six 
hundred  young  men,  there  are  exceptions,  strong 
men  who  resist  their  demonetization,  and  I  know 
some  of  them;  but,  if  I  could  describe  their  struggle 
with  men  and  things,  when,  armed  with  useful  proj- 
ects, with  conceptions  calculated  to  engender  life 
and  wealth  in  lifeless  districts,  they  encounter  ob- 
stacles where  the  State  has  supposed  that  it  was 
providing  them  with  aid  and  protection, — you  would 
consider  the  forceful  man,  the  man  of  talent,  the 
man  whose  nature  is  a  miracle,  a  hundred  times 
more  unfortunate  and  more  to  be  pitied  than  the 
man  whose  debased  nature  lends  itself  to  the  degen- 
eration of  its  faculties.  So  I  prefer  to  direct  a  com- 
mercial and  industrial  enterprise,  to  live  upon  little 
or  nothing,  seeking  to  solve  one  of  the  numerous 
problems  which  industry  and  society  still  need  to 
have  solved,  rather  than  remain  in  my  present 
position.  You  will  tell  me  that  there  is  nothing  to 
prevent  me  from  employing  my  intellectual  powers 
where  I  am,  from  seeking  in  the  silence  of  this  un- 
interesting life  the  solution  of  some  problem  of  im- 
portance to  humanity.  Ah!  monsieur,  do  you  not 
know  the  influence  of  the  provinces  and  the  relaxing 
effect  of  a  life  just  enough  employed  to  use  up  the 


THE  VILLAGE    CURE  261 

time  in  almost  futile  efforts,  and  yet  not  enough  to 
call  forth  the  rich  resources  our  nature  has  created? 
Do  not,  my  dear  protector,  believe  me  to  be  devoured 
by  a  longing  to  make  my  fortune  or  by  any  insensate 
thirst  for  glory.  I  am  too  much  of  a  calculator  to  be 
ignorant  of  the  emptiness  of  glory.  Such  energy  as  is 
essential  for  this  life  does  not  make  me  wish  to  marry, 
for,  when  I  consider  my  present  destiny,  I  have  not 
sufficient  regard  for  existence  to  make  any  such 
melancholy  present  to  another  myself.  Although  I 
look  upon  money  as  one  of  the  most  potent  means  of 
action  given  to  man  as  a  unit  of  society,  it  is,  after 
all,  nothing  more  than  a  means  of  action.  Therefore 
my  only  pleasure  consists  in  the  certainty  of  beiog 
useful  to  my  country.  My  greatest  joy  would  be  to 
act  in  an  environment  adapted  to  my  faculties.  If  in 
your  neighborhood,  in  the  circle  of  your  acquaint- 
ances, in  the  sphere  in  which  you  shine,  you  should 
hear  anyone  mention  an  enterprise  that  demands  any 
of  the  acquirements  you  know  me  to  possess,  will 
you  let  me  know?  I  will  wait  six  months  for  a  reply 
from  you. 

"  Others  think  as  I  have  written,  monsieur  and 
dear  friend.  I  have  seen  many  of  my  comrades  or 
former  pupils  at  the  School  caught,  like  myself,  in 
the  trap  of  a  specialty,  engineer-geographers,  cap- 
tain-professors, captains  in  the  military  engineering 
corps,  who  feel  that  they  are  captains  for  the  rest  of 
their  days,  and  who  bitterly  regret  not  having  gone 
into  active  service.  In  fact,  on  several  occasions, 
we  have  admitted  to  one  another  the  long-continued 


262  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

mystification  of  which  we  have  been  made  victims, 
and  which  becomes  evident  when  it  is  too  late  to 
escape  from  its  influence,  when  the  animal  has  be- 
come used  to  the  machine  which  he  turns  round 
and  round,  when  the  invalid  is  accustomed  to  his 
disease.  Having  closely  studied  those  deplorable 
results,  I  put  the  following  questions  to  myself  and  I 
repeat  them  to  you,  a  man  of  sound  common  sense 
and  capable  of  giving  them  mature  consideration, 
knowing  that  they  are  the  fruit  of  meditations  purged 
in  the  fire  of  suffering.  What  end  has  the  State  in 
view?  Does  it  wish  to  obtain  the  services  of  men 
of  capacity?  The  means  employed  work  directly 
against  the  end:  it  has  unquestionably  created  the 
most  downright  mediocrities  which  a  government 
hostile  to  superior  talent  could  desire.  Does  it  wish 
to  provide  a  career  for  distinguished  intellects?  It 
has  provided  a  most  mediocre  position  for  them: 
there  is  not  one  of  the  men  graduated  from  the 
schools  who  does  not  regret,  between  the  ages  of 
fifty  and  sixty,  that  he  ever  fell  into  the  snare  con- 
cealed by  the  promises  of  the  State.  Does  the  State 
wish  to  obtain  men  of  genius?  What  one  man  of 
eminent  talent  have  the  schools  produced  since 
1790?  Except  for  Napoleon,  would  Cachin,  the 
engineering  genius  to  whom  we  owe  Cherbourg, 
ever  have  been  heard  of?  The  imperial  despotism 
honored  him,  the  constitutional  regime  would  have 
stifled  him.  Does  the  Academy  of  Sciences  include 
many  men  graduated  from  the  special  schools?  Per- 
haps there  are  two  or  three!  The  man  of  genius  will 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  263 

always  make  himself  manifest  outside  of  the  special 
schools.  In  the  sciences  to  which  those  schools  are 
devoted,  genius  obeys  no  laws  but  its  own,  it  is  de- 
veloped only  by  circumstances  over  which  man  has 
no  control:  neither  the  State,  nor  the  science  of  man- 
kind,— anthropology, — knows  anything  of  them.  Ri- 
quet,  Perronet,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Cachin,  Palladio, 
Brunelleschi,  Michael-Angelo,  Bramante,  Vauban, 
Vicat,  all  owe  their  genius  to  unobserved,  prelim- 
inary causes,  to  which  we  give  the  name  of  chance, 
the  watchword  of  fools.  Never  do  such  sublime 
workmen  as  they  fail  their  generation,  with  or  with- 
out schools.  Now,  is  it  a  fact  that,  by  means  of  this 
organization,  the  State  is  the  gainer  by  the  better  or 
less  extravagant  execution  of  works  of  public  utility? 
In  the  first  place,  private  undertakings  do  very  well 
without  engineers;  furthermore,  the  works  under- 
taken by  our  government  are  executed  in  the  most 
expensive  way,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cost  of  the 
enormous  staff  of  the  department  of  Roads  and 
Bridges.  In  other  countries,  Germany,  England, 
Italy,  where  such  institutions  as  these  do  not  exist, 
similar  works  are  constructed  at  least  as  well  and 
at  much  less  expense  than  in  France.  Those  three 
countries  are  renowned  for  novel  and  useful  inven- 
tions in  that  line.  I  know  that  it  is  fashionable,  in 
speaking  of  our  schools,  to  say  that  Europe  envies 
us.  But,  for  the  last  fifteen  years,  Europe,  which  is 
constantly  watching  us,  has  established  nothing  of 
the  same  sort.  England,  that  shrewd  reckoner,  has 
better  schools  among  her  artisan  population,  from 


264  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

which  practical  men  suddenly  step  forth  and  become 
great  in  a  moment,  when  they  proceed  from  practice 
to  theory.  Stephenson  and  Macadam  were  not  prod- 
ucts of  our  famous  schools.  But  of  what  use  is  it  to 
talk?  When  young  and  skilful  engineers,  full  of  fire 
and  ardor,  have  at  the  very  outset  of  their  career 
solved  the  problem  of  keeping  the  highways  of 
France  in  condition,  a  problem  which  requires  the 
expenditure  of  hundreds  of  millions  in  a  quarter  of  a 
century, — which  highways  are  in  a  pitiable  condi- 
tion,— it  is  of  no  use  for  them  to  publish  learned 
works  and  memorials;  everything  is  swallowed  at 
general  headquarters,  in  that  Parisian  centre  where 
everything  goes  in  and  from  which  nothing  comes 
out,  where  old  men  are  jealous  of  young  men,  where 
the  higher  positions  are  used  as  places  of  retirement 
for  the  old  engineers  who  have  lost  their  wits.  That 
is  why,  with  a  thoroughly  educated  corps  scattered 
over  the  whole  of  France,  a  corps  which  forms  one 
of  the  wheels  in  tfie  administrative  machine,  and 
which  ought  to  lead  the  country  in  such  matters  and 
enlighten  it  upon  the  great  questions  within  its  juris- 
diction, it  will  happen  that  we  are  still  discussing  the 
question  of  railroads  when  other  countries  have  fin- 
ished building  theirs.  Now,  if  France  had  ever  been 
able  to  demonstrate  the  excellence  of  the  institution 
of  special  schools,  would  it  not  have  been  in  its 
treatment  of  that  superb  branch  of  public  works, 
destined  to  change  the  face  of  the  globe,  to  double  the 
duration  of  human  life  by  modifying  the  laws  of  time 
and  space?  Belgium,  the  United  States,  Germany, 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  265 

England,  none  of  which  have  a  Polytechnic  School, 
will  be  covered  with  a  network  of  railways  when 
our  engineers  are  still  laying  out  the  lines  of  ours, 
when  shameful  speculations,  concealed  behind  proj- 
ects for  the  construction  of  lines,  will  retard  their 
execution.  Not  a  stone  is  laid  in  France  until  half 
a  score  of  Parisian  scribblers  have  made  foolish  and 
utterly  useless  reports.  Thus,  so  far  as  the  State  is 
concerned,  it  derives  no  profit  from  its  special  schools; 
as  for  the  individual,  his  fortune  is  mediocre,  his  life 
a  cruel  disappointment.  Certainly  the  talents  that 
the  pupil  has  displayed  between  the  ages  of  sixteen 
and  twenty-six  prove  that,  if  left  to  carve  out  his 
own  destiny,  he  would  have  made  it  greater  and 
richer  than  that  to  which  the  government  has 
doomed  him.  As  merchant,  scientist,  soldier,  that 
master-mind  would  have  acted  in  a  wide  sphere,  if 
his  priceless  faculties  and  his  zeal  had  not  been 
idiotically  and  prematurely  emasculated.  Where  is 
the  progress,  then?  The  State  and  the  man  cer- 
tainly lose  by  the  present  system.  A  half -century's 
experience  certainly  demands  changes  in  the  method 
of  conducting  an  institution,  does  it  not?  What 
priesthood  sets  forth  the  necessity  of  selecting  from 
a  whole  generation  in  France  the  men  destined  to 
constitute  the  learned  portion  of  the  nation?  What 
studies  ought  not  those  great  priests  of  fate  to  have 
pursued  ?  It  may  be  that  mathematical  knowledge  is 
not  so  necessary  to  them  as  physiological  knowledge. 
Does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  there  is  an  opening  for  a 
little  of  that  second-sight  which  is  the  magic  of  great 


266  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

men?  The  examiners  are  former  professors,  hon- 
orable men  grown  old  in  toil,  whose  duties  are 
confined  to  discovering  the  best  memories:  they 
are  not  capable  of  doing  anything  more  than  just 
what  is  asked  of  them.  Assuredly,  their  functions 
should  be  considered  the  most  important  in  the 
State,  and  should  call  for  men  of  extraordinary 
merit. 

"  Do  not  think,  monsieur  and  dear  friend,  that  my 
animadversions  refer  simply  to  the  School  of  which 
I  am  a  graduate;  they  are  aimed  not  only  at  the 
institution  itself,  but  also,  and  especially,  at  the 
method  employed  to  feed  it.  That  method  is 
competition,  a  modern  invention,  essentially  bad, 
and  bad  not  in  science  alone,  but  wherever  it  is 
employed,  in  the  arts,  in  every  case  of  selection 
between  men,  projects,  or  things.  If  it  is  unfor- 
tunate for  our  famous  schools  that  they  have  turned 
out  no  larger  numbers  of  superior  men  than  any 
other  collection  of  young  men  would  have  done,  it  is 
still  more  shameful  that  the  first  great  prize  com- 
petitions of  the  institute  have  produced  neither  a 
great  painter,  a  great  musician,  a  great  architect, 
nor  a  great  sculptor;  just  as,  for  twenty  years 
past,  the  elections  have  not  brought  into  the  gov- 
ernment, from  among  the  flood  of  mediocrities,  a 
single  great  statesman.  My  observation  has  de- 
tected an  error  which  vitiates  both  education  and 
politics  in  France.  That  grave  error  rests  upon  the 
following  principle,  which  the  organizers  have  failed 
to  understand: 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  267 

"Nothing,  either  in  past  experience  or  in  the  nature 
of  things,  affords  a  certainty  that  the  intellectual  quali- 
ties of  the  youth  will  be  those  of  the  matured  man. 

"At  this  moment,  I  am  on  intimate  terms  with 
several  distinguished  men  who  have  made  a  study 
of  all  the  moral  diseases  by  which  France  is  con- 
sumed. They  have  realized,  as  I  have,  that  the 
superior  schools  turn  out  men  whose  capabilities  are 
only  temporary,  because  they  are  without  employ- 
ment or  future  prospects;  that  the  knowledge  im- 
parted by  the  inferior  schools  is  of  no  benefit  to  the 
State,  because  its  recipients  are  devoid  of  conviction 
and  feeling.  Our  whole  system  of  public  instruction 
demands  a  thorough  overhauling,  which  should  be 
presided  over  by  a  man  of  profound  knowledge,  of 
a  powerful  will,  and  endowed  with  that  genius  for 
legislation  which  no  man  of  modern  times  has  pos- 
sessed, except,  perhaps,  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau.  It 
may  be  that  the  overflow  from  the  special  schools 
should  be  employed  in  elementary  instruction,  so 
necessary  to  the  welfare  of  a  people.  We  have  not 
enough  patient,  devoted  teachers  to  handle  those 
masses.  The  deplorable  number  of  crimes  and  mis- 
demeanors indicates  a  social  sore  whose  source  is 
in  that  semi-instruction  afforded  the  people,  which 
tends  to  destroy  the  social  bond,  by  causing  them  to 
reflect  just  enough  to  desert  the  religious  beliefs 
favorable  to  the  government,  and  not  enough  to 
educate  them  up  to  the  theory  of  obedience  and 
duty,  which  is  the  last  word  of  transcendental  phi- 
losophy. It  is  impossible  to  make  a  whole  nation 


268  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

study  Kant;  so  that  belief  and  usage  are  much 
better  for  the  masses  than  study  and  argument.  If 
I  had  to  begin  life  anew,  I  might,  perhaps,  enter  a 
seminary,  and  I  would  like  to  be  a  simple  country 
cure,  or  the  school-teacher  of  a  commune.  I  am  too 
far  advanced  now  in  my  profession  to  be  a  simple 
primary  teacher,  and  I  am  fitted  to  act  upon  a  more 
extended  circle  than  that  of  a  country  school  or 
curacy.  The  Saint-Simonians,  whom  I  was  tempted 
to  join,  propose  to  take  a  course  in  which  I  could  not 
follow  them;  but,  despite  their  errors,  they  have  put 
their  fingers  on  several  sore  spots,  the  result  of  our 
legislation,  which  no  attempt  is  made  to  cure  except 
by  insufficient  palliatives,  which  will  only  serve  to 
postpone  a  great  moral  and  political  crisis  in  France. 
Adieu,  dear  monsieur;  I  trust  that  you  will  find 
herein  the  assurance  of  my  respectful  and  faithful 
attachment,  which,  notwithstanding  these  observa- 
tions, can  never  do  aught  but  increase. 

"GREGOiRE  GERARD." 


According  to  his  old  banker's  habit,  Grossetete 
had  minuted  the  following  reply  on  the  back  of  the 
letter,  placing  above  what  he  had  written  the  sacra- 
mental word:  "ANSWERED": 

"It  is  quite  useless,  my  dear  Gerard,  to  discuss 
the  observations  contained  in  your  letter,  because,  by 
a  freak  of  chance, — I  use  the  watchword  of  fools, — 
I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,  the  result  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  269 

which  will  be  to  relieve  you  from  the  situation  in 
which  you  are  so  unhappy.  Madame  Graslin,  who 
owns  the  forests  of  Montegnac  and  a  very  unproduc- 
tive plateau  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  long  chain 
of  hills  which  her  forests  cover,  has  conceived  the 
idea  of  turning  that  extensive  property  to  some 
profitable  use,  of  exploiting  its  woods,  and  of  culti- 
vating its  rocky  plains.  To  carry  out  that  idea,  she 
needs  a  man  with  your  scientific  knowledge  and  your 
ardor,  who  will  have  at  the  same  time  your  disinter- 
ested devotion  and  your  practical  utilitarian  ideas. 
Little  money  and  plenty  of  work  to  do!  an  immense 
result  to  be  achieved  by  small  means!  a  whole  dis- 
trict to  be  revolutionized  !  To  cause  the  most  barren 
spot  on  earth  to  yield  abundantly — is  not  that  what 
you  desire,  you  who  long  to  construct  a  poem?  In 
view  of  the  tone  of  sincerity  that  pervades  your 
letter,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  to  come  to  see 
me  at  Limoges;  but,  my  friend,  do  not  send  in  your 
resignation,  simply  obtain  permission  to  leave  your 
corps,  explaining  to  your  superiors  that  you  wish 
to  study  questions  connected  with  your  profession 
outside  of  government  work.  In  that  way  you  will 
lose  none  of  your  rights,  and  you  will  have  time  to 
make  up  your  mind  whether  the  project  conceived 
by  the  cure  of  Montegnac,  which  commends  itself  to 
Madame  Graslin,  is  practicable.  I  will  explain  to  you 
when  I  see  you  the  advantages  that  may  accrue  to 
you  in  case  these  vast  changes  are  possible.  Rely 
always  upon  the  friendship  of  your  devoted 

"GROSSETETE." 


2/0  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Madame  Graslin  wrote  to  Grossete'te  in  reply  only 
these  few  words: 

"  Thanks,  my  friend;  I  await  your  protege." 

She  showed  the  engineer's  letter  to  Monsieur 
Bonnet,  saying: 

"  One  more  wounded  man  in  search  of  the  great 
hospital !" 

The  cure  read  the  letter,  re-read  it,  walked  up 
and  down  the  terrace  two  or  three  times  in  silence, 
and  returned  it  to  Madame  Graslin. 

"  That  is  the  letter  of  a  noble  mind,"  he  said, 
"and  a  superior  man!  He  says  that  the  schools 
invented  by  the  revolutionary  genius  manufacture 
incapacities;  for  my  part,  I  call  them  factories  of 
unbelievers,  for,  if  Monsieur  Gerard  is  not  an 
atheist,  he  is  a  Protestant." 

"  We  will  ask  him  the  question,"  she  said,  struck 
by  that  rejoinder. 

A  fortnight  later,  in  December,  Monsieur  Grosse- 
tete  came  to  the  chateau  of  Montegnac,  in  spite  of 
the  cold,  to  present  his  protege,  whom  Veronique 
and  Monsieur  Bonnet  were  impatiently  awaiting. 

"  You  see  how  fond  of  you  I  must  be,  my  child," 
said  the  old  man,  taking  both  Veronique's  hands  in 
his  and  kissing  them  with  the  old-fashioned  gallantry 
that  never  offends  a  woman,  "  yes,  very  fond,  in- 
deed, to  leave  Limoges  in  such  weather;  but  I  was 
determined  to  present  Monsieur  Gregoire  Gerard  to 
you  with  my  own  hand,  and  here  he  is. — He  is  a 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  271 

man  after  your  own  heart,  Monsieur  Bonnet,"  added 
the  ex-banker,  saluting  the  cure  affectionately. 

Gerard's  exterior  was  far  from  engaging.  Of 
medium  height,  thick-set,  with  his  neck  between  his 
shoulders,  as  the  phrase  goes,  he  had  golden-yellow 
hair,  the  red  eyes  of  the  albino,  lashes  and  eye- 
brows almost  white.  Although  his  complexion,  like 
that  of  all  people  of  that  sort,  was  of  a  dazzling  white- 
ness, marks  of  the  small-pox  and  some  very  apparent 
scars  took  away  its  original  brilliancy;  study  had 
evidently  impaired  his  sight,  for  he  wore  spectacles. 
When  he  threw  off  a  heavy  gendarme's  cloak,  the 
costume  that  he  disclosed  did  not  redeem  the  unat- 
tractiveness  of  his  countenance.  The  way  in  which 
his  clothes  were  put  on  and  buttoned,  his  shabby 
cravat,  his  soiled  shirt,  plainly  denoted  that  lack  of 
care  of  the  person  which  is  the  common  reproach  of 
scientific  men,  all  more  or  less  absent-minded.  As 
in  almost  all  thinkers,  his  manner  and  his  attitude, 
the  development  of  the  bust  and  the  thinness  of  the 
legs  indicated  a  sort  of  bodily  weakness  produced  by 
meditative  habits;  but  the  power  of  the  heart  and 
the  ardor  of  the  intelligence,  the  proofs  of  which 
were  written  in  his  letter,  made  themselves  manifest 
on  his  brow,  which  you  would  have  taken  to  be 
carved  from  Carrara  marble.  Nature  seemed  to 
have  set  aside  that  place  for  the  visible  tokens  of 
the  man's  grandeur,  constancy,  and  kindness  of 
heart.  The  nose,  as  in  all  men  of  the  Gallic  race, 
was  somewhat  flattened.  His  firm,  straight  mouth 
denoted  absolute  discretion  and  an  economical  bent; 


272  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

but  the  whole  face,  wearied  by  study,  had  grown 
old  prematurely. 

"We  have  occasion  to  thank  you  already,  mon- 
sieur," said  Madame  Graslin,  "for  your  willingness 
to  come  and  assume  the  direction  of  works  in  a  re- 
gion that  will  afford  you  no  other  pleasure  than  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  one  can  do  good  here." 

"Madame,"  he  replied,  "Monsieur  Grossetete 
told  me  enough  about  you  on  the  road  to  make 
me  more  than  happy  to  be  of  use  to  you,  and  to 
make  the  prospect  of  living  in  your  society  and 
that  of  Monsieur  Bonnet  delightful  to  me.  Unless 
I  am  driven  away  from  the  province,  I  expect  to 
pass  the  rest  of  my  life  here." 

"We  will  try  to  give  you  no  reason  to  change 
your  plan,"  said  Madame  Graslin,  with  a  smile. 

"  Here,"  said  Grossete"te  to  Veronique,  taking 
her  aside,  "are  some  papers  the  procureur-general 
handed  me;  he  was  very  much  surprised  that  you 
did  not  apply  to  him  directly.  All  that  you  asked 
has  been  done  promptly  and  zealously.  In  the  first 
place,  your  protege  will  be  restored  to  all  his  rights 
as  a  citizen;  and  secondly,  Catherine  Curieux  will 
be  sent  to  you  within  three  months." 

"Where  is  she?"  Veronique  asked. 

"At  the  Saint-Louis  hospital,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "  They  are  waiting  for  her  to  be  cured  before 
sending  her  away  from  Paris." 

"Ah!  the  poor  girl  is  ill!" 

"You  will  find  here  all  the  information  you  desire," 
said  Grossetete,  handing  a  package  to  Veronique. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  273 

She  returned  to  her  guests  to  take  them  to  the 
superb  dining-room  on  the  ground-floor,  to  which  she 
led  the  way  with  Grossete"te  and, Gerard,  to  each  of 
whom  she  gave  an  arm.  She  served  the  dinner 
herself,  taking  no  part  in  it.  Since  her  arrival  at 
Montegnac,  she  had  made  it  an  invariable  rule  to 
take  all  her  meals  alone,  and  Aline,  who  was  the 
only  one  who  knew  the  secret  of  that  reserve,  kept 
it  religiously  until  the  day  that, her  mistress  was  in 
danger  of  death. 

The  mayor,  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  the  phy- 
sician of  Montegnac  had  naturally  been  invited. 

The  physician,  a  young  man  of  twenty-seven, 
named  Roubaud,  was  extremely  anxious  to  know  the 
most  famous  woman  in  the  Limousin.  The  cure  was 
the  more  pleased  to  introduce  that  young  man  at  the 
chateau,  because  he  desired  to  form  a  sort  of  society 
for  Veronique,  in  order  to  divert  her  and  to  furnish 
food  for  her  mind.  Roubaud  was  one  of  those  thor- 
oughly educated  young  doctors,  of  the  sort  that  are 
turned  out  to-day  by  the  School  of  Medicine  at  Paris, 
and  would  certainly  have  been  able  to  make  his 
mark  upon  the  vast  stage  of  the  capital;  but,  alarmed 
by  the  scheming  of  ambitious  practitioners  there, 
conscious,  too,  that  he  was  better  posted  in  medicine 
than  in  intrigue,  that  he  possessed  more  professional 
skill  than  greed,  his  peaceable  character  had  led  him 
to  the  narrow  provincial  stage,  where  he  hoped  to 
be  appreciated  more  speedily  than  in  Paris.  At  Li- 
moges, Roubaud  jostled  against  habits  long  formed  and 
physicians  whose  practice  was  impregnable;  so  he 
18 


274  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  by  Monsieur  Bonnet 
who  judged  from  his  sweet  and  attractive  face  that 
he  was  one  of  those  who  ought  to  belong  to  him  and 
to  co-operate  in  his  work. 

Roubaud  was  a  small,  fair-haired  man,  with  a 
decidedly  insipid  face;  but  his  gray  eyes  betrayed 
the  profound  meditation  of  the  physiologist  and  the 
tenacity  of  studious  folk.  Montegnac  could  boast 
only  of  a  regimental  surgeon,  who  was  more  devoted 
to  his  cellar  than  his  patients,  and,  furthermore, 
was  too  old  to  continue  the  exacting  profession  of 
country  doctor.  At  the  time  of  which  we  write  he 
was  dying.  Roubaud  had  lived  in  Montegnac  eight- 
een months,  and  had  made  himself  beloved  there. 
But  the  young  pupil  of  Desplein  and  of  the  succes- 
sors of  Cabanis  did  not  believe  in  Catholicism.  On. 
the  subject  of  religion,  he  remained  in  a  state  of  fatal 
indifference,  and  did  not  choose  to  emerge  from  it. 
So  he  drove  the  cure  to  despair;  not  that  he  did  the 
slightest  harm,  for  he  never  talked  religion,  his  occu- 
pations justified  his  constant  absence  from  church, 
and,  moreover,  being  quite  incapable  of  proselyting, 
he  bore  himself  as  the  best  of  Catholics;  but  he  had 
forbidden  himself  to  consider  a  problem  which  he 
looked  upon  as  beyond  the  reach  of  man.  When  he 
heard  the  doctor  say  that  pantheism  was  the  religion 
of  all  great  minds,  the  cure  concluded  that  he  was 
inclined  toward  the  dogmas  of  Pythagoras  concern- 
ing transformations. 

Roubaud,  who  then  saw  Madame  Graslin  for  the 
first  time,  was  conscious  of  a  most  violent  emotion 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  275 

at  her  appearance;  science  enabled  him  to  detect  in 
her  expression,  in  her  attitude,  in  her  worn  features, 
incredible  suffering,  both  mental  and  physical,  a 
character  of  superhuman  strength,  and  the  eminent 
faculties  which  enable  their  possessor  to  endure  the 
most  contrary  vicissitudes,  he  saw  everything,  even 
the  obscure  and  designedly  hidden  spaces.  And  so 
he  discovered  the  disease  that  was  devouring  that 
noble  creature's  heart;  for  just  as  the  color  of  a  fruit 
causes  us  to  suspect  the  presence  of  a  worm,  so  cer- 
tain hues  of  the  face  enable  a  physician  to  detect 
a  poisonous  thought.  From  that  moment,  Monsieur 
Roubaud  became  so  deeply  attached  to  Madame 
Graslin  that  he  was  afraid  of  loving  her  beyond  the 
simple  friendship  permitted.  Veronique's  forehead, 
her  gait,  and,  more  than  all  else,  her  glance  had  an 
eloquence  which  men  always  understand,  and  which 
said  as  emphatically  that  she  was  dead  to  love  as 
other  women  say  the  contrary  by  eloquence  of  a 
contrary  disposition;  the  doctor  suddenly  made  a  vow 
of  knightly  devotion  to  her.  He  exchanged  a  swift 
glance  with  the  cure.  Thereupon  Monsieur  Bonnet 
said  to  himself: 

"There  is  the  thunderbolt  that  will  transform 
that  poor  unbeliever!  Madame  Graslin  will  be  more 
eloquent  than  I." 

The  mayor,  an  old  countryman,  agape  at  the 
magnificence  of  that  dining-room,  and  surprised  at 
being  invited  to  dine  with  one  of  the  richest  men  in 
the  department,  had  donned  his  best  clothes,  but 
he  was  somewhat  uncomfortable  in  them,  and  his 


276  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

mental  discomfort  steadily  increased;  Madame  Gras- 
lin,  in  her  mourning,  seemed  to  him  an  extremely 
imposing  personage,  so  that  he  was  dumb.  For- 
merly a  farmer  at  Saint-Leonard,  he  had  purchased 
the  only  habitable  house  in  the  village,  and  he  him- 
self cultivated  the  fields  connected  with  it.  Al- 
though he  knew  how  to  read  and  write,  he  could  not 
perform  the  duties  of  his  office  except  with  the 
assistance  of  the  bailiff  and  the  justice  of  the  peace, 
who  laid  out  his  work  for  him:  so  that  he  earnestly 
desired  the  creation  of  a  notarial  office,  in  order  to 
unload  the  burden  of  his  functions  upon  that  minis- 
terial officer;  but  the  poverty  of  the  canton  of  Mon- 
tegnac  made  a  notary  almost  useless  there,  and  the 
needs  of  the  people  were  served  by  the  notaries  of 
the  chief  town  of  the  arrondissement. 

The  justice  of  the  peace,  one  Clousier,  was  for- 
merly an  advocate  at  Limoges,  where  causes  had 
turned  their  backs  upon  him,  for  he  attempted  to  put 
in  practice  the  excellent  axiom  that  the  lawyer  is  the 
first  judge  of  client  and  cause.  About  1809  he  ob- 
tained the  place  he  now  held:  its  meagre  salary  af- 
forded him  a  bare  living.  Thus  he  had  arrived  at  the 
most  honorable  but  the  most  utter  poverty.  After  a 
residence  of  twenty-two  years  in  that  poor  com- 
mune, the  good  man  had  become  a  thorough  rustic, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  his  redingote,  resembled 
the  farmers  of  the  province.  Beneath  that  semi- 
coarse  exterior,  Clousier  concealed  a  far-seeing 
mind,  devoted  to  lofty  political  meditations,  but 
fallen  into  an  utter  indifference  due  to  his  perfect 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  277 

knowledge  of  men  and  their  selfishness.  That  man, 
who  for  a  long  time  deceived  the  perspicacity  of 
Monsieur  Bonnet,  and  who,  in  a  higher  sphere, 
would  have  recalled  the  character  of  L'Hopital, 
being  utterly  incapable  of  intrigue,  like  all  men  of 
really  profound  mind,  had  at  last  reached  the  contem- 
plative stage  of  the  recluses  of  old  days.  Esteeming 
himself  rich,  doubtless,  in  the  privations  he  had 
undergone,  he  allowed  no  consideration  of  self- 
interest  to  act  upon  his  mind:  he  knew  the  laws 
and  passed  judgment  impartially.  His  life,  reduced 
to  the  simplest  necessaries,  was  pure  and  regular. 
The  peasants  loved  Monsieur  Clousier  and  esteemed 
him,  because  of  the  paternal  disinterestedness  with 
which  he  adjusted  their  differences  and  gave  them 
his  advice  on  the  most  trivial  subjects.  Goodman 
Clousier,  as  all  Montegnac  called  him,  had  had  for 
his  clerk  for  two  years  past  one  of  his  nephews,  a 
young  man  of  intelligence,  who,  later,  contributed 
materially  to  the  prosperity  of  the  canton. 

The  old  man's  face  was  remarkable  for  a  broad, 
expansive  forehead.  Two  bushes  of  white  hair  grew 
in  disorder  on  each  side  of  his  bald  head.  His  florid 
complexion,  his  decided  embonpoint  would  have  led 
one  to  believe,  despite  his  sobriety,  that  he  cultivated 
Bacchus  as  ardently  as  Troplong  and  Toullier.  His 
almost  inaudible  voice  denoted  that  he  was  a  sufferer 
from  asthma.  Perhaps  the  dry  air  of  upper  Mon- 
tegnac had  had  something  to  do  with  his  permanent 
settlement  in  that  district.  He  lived  in  a  small  house 
arranged  for  his  occupancy  by  a  cobbler  of  some 


278  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

means,  to  whom  it  belonged.  Clousier  had  pre- 
viously seen  Veronique  at  church  and  had  made  up 
his  mind  concerning  her,  but  had  not  communicated 
his  ideas  to  anyone,  not  even  to  Monsieur  Bonnet, 
with  whom  he  was  beginning  to  become  somewhat 
intimate.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  justice 
of  the  peace  was  with  people  who  were  capable  of 
understanding  him. 

When  they  were  seated  around  a  handsomely  ap- 
pointed table,  for  Veronique  had  had  all  her  furniture 
sent  from  Limoges  to  Montegnac,  these  six  persons 
experienced  a  momentary  embarrassment.  The  doctor, 
the  mayor,  and  the  justice  of  the  peace  knew  neither 
Grossetete  nor  Gerard.  But,  during  the  first  course, 
the  old  banker's  good  humor  gradually  melted  the 
ice  of  a  first  meeting.  Then,  too,  Madame  Graslin's 
amiable  manner  drew  out  Gerard  and  encouraged 
Monsieur  Roubaud.  Skilfully  handled  by  her,  those 
minds,  stored  with  excellent  qualities,  recognized 
their  kinship.  Everyone  soon  felt  that  he  was  in 
sympathetic  surroundings.  So  that,  when  the  des- 
sert came  on,  when  the  glasses  and  the  gilt-edged 
porcelain  gleamed  in  the  candle-light,  when  choice 
wines  passed  around  the  board,  served  by  Aline, 
Champion,  and  Grossetete's  servant,  the  conversa- 
tion became  sufficiently  general  for  those  four  first- 
rate  men,  brought  together  by  chance,  to  exchange 
their  real  thoughts  concerning  the  important  matters 
which  people  love  to  discuss  when  they  feel  that  they 
are  all  speaking  in  good  faith. 

"  Your  furlough  coincided  with  the  revolution  of 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  279 

July,"  said  Grosset§te  to  Gerard,  in  a  tone  which 
seemed  to  ask  him  for  his  opinion  of  that  event. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  engineer.  "I  was  in  Paris 
during  the  three  famous  days,  I  saw  everything;  I 
formed  some  rather  depressing  conclusions." 

"What  were  they?"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet, 
eagerly. 

"There  is  no  patriotism  nowadays  except  under 
soiled  shirts,"  rejoined  Gerard.  "  There  is  the  mis- 
fortune of  France.  July  was  the  voluntary  over- 
throw of  those  men  who  are  superior  in  name,  for- 
tune, and  talent.  The  enthusiastic  masses  carried 
the  day  over  the  rich  and  intelligent  classes  to  whom 
enthusiasm  is  antipathetic." 

"  To  judge  from  what  has  happened  since  a  year 
ago,"  added  Monsieur  Clousier,  the  justice  of  the 
peace,  "that  change  is  a  premium  offered  to  the 
evil  that  is  devouring  us,  individualism.  Fifteen 
years  hence,  every  generous  question  will  be  trans- 
lated: '  W 'hat  difference  does  it  make  to  me  ?'  the  great 
cry  of  free-will,  descended  from  the  religious  heights 
to  which  Luther,  Calvin,  Zwingle,  and  Knox  raised 
it  in  political  economy.  'Chacun  pour  soi;  chacun 
che^  soi,'*  those  two  horrible  phrases,  form,  with  the 
' W 'hat  difference  does  it  make  to  me?'  the  trinity  of 
wise  precepts  of  the  bourgeois  and  small  landed  pro- 
prietor. This  selfishness  is  the  result  of  the  vices  of 

*  Literally,  "  every  one  for  himself ;  every  one  at  home."  These  phrases  are 
contemptuously  regarded  as  being  the  maxims  of  a  selfish  and  narrow-minded 
national  policy.  The  latter,  'cbacun  cbe%  sot,'  is  particularly  odious,  Implying 
that  France  should  let  other  nations  pull  themselves  out  of  the  mire  while  she 
should  look  on  with  indifference. 


280  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

our  civil  legislation,  which  was  enacted  a  little  too 
hurriedly,  and  received  a  terrible  consecration  in  the 
revolution  of  July." 

The  justice  of  the  peace  relapsed  into  his  custom- 
ary silence  after  that  speech,  which  was  well  adapted 
to  furnish  food  for  thought  to  the  guests.  Embold- 
ened by  Clousier's  words  and  by  the  look  which 
Gerard  and  Grossete'te  exchanged,  Monsieur  Bonnet 
ventured  to  go  still  further. 

"  The  good  King  Charles  X.,"  he  said,  "failed  in 
the  most  far-sighted  and  salutary  enterprise  that  a 
monarch  ever  conceived  for  the  welfare  of  the  people 
entrusted  to  his  care,  and  the  Church  may  well  be 
proud  of  her  part  in  his  councils.  But  courage  and 
intelligence  failed  the  upper  classes,  just  as  they  had 
failed  them  before,  concerning  the  great  question  of 
the  law  of  primogeniture,  the  everlasting  honor  of  the 
only  courageous  statesman  of  the  Restoration,  the 
Comte  de  Peyronnet.  To  reconstitute  the  nation  by 
the  family,  to  take  away  from  the  press  its  venom- 
ous activity  by  limiting  its  privileges  to  that  of  being 
useful,  to  compel  the  elective  Chamber  to  confine 
itself  to  its  proper  attributes,  to  restore  to  religion 
its  power  over  the  people, — such  were  the  four  car- 
dinal points  of  the  domestic  policy  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  And,  twenty  years  hence,  all  France  will 
have  recognized  the  necessity  of  that  grand  and 
healthy  policy.  King  Charles  X.  was,  moreover, 
more  threatened  in  the  position  which  he  proposed 
to  abandon,  than  in  that  wherein  his  paternal  power 
perished.  The  future  of  our  fair  country,  where 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  28 1 

everything  will  be  periodically  discussed,  where  dis- 
cussion will  constantly  take  the  place  of  action, 
where  the  press,  become  the  sovereign  power,  will 
be  the  instrument  of  the  vilest  ambitions,  will  demon- 
strate the  wisdom  of  that  king  who  has  carried  away 
with  him  the  true  principles  of  government,  and  his- 
tory will  give  him  credit  for  the  courage  with  which 
he  resisted  his  best  friends  after  he  had  probed  the 
sore,  had  realized  its  extent  and  the  necessity  of 
those  curative  methods  which  were  not  upheld  by 
those  in  whose  interest  he  threw  himself  into  the 
breach." 

"  Well,  well,  monsieur  le  cure,  you  go  to  the  point 
frankly  and  without  the  slightest  disguise,"  cried 
Gerard;  "  but  I  will  not  contradict  you.  Napoleon, 
in  his  Russian  campaign,  was  forty  years  ahead  of 
the  spirit  of  his  age;  he  was  not  understood.  The 
Russia  and  the  England  of  1830  explain  the  campaign 
of  1812.  Charles  X.  suffered  from  the  same  misfor- 
tune; twenty -five  years  hence  his  ordinances  may 
become  laws." 

"France,"  rejoined  the  justice  of  the  peace,  "a 
too  eloquent  country  not  to  be  inclined  to  talk  too 
much,  too  full  of  vanity  to  enable  one  to  discover 
its  real  talents,  is,  notwithstanding  the  sublime 
good  sense  of  its  language  and  the  masses  of  its 
people,  the  last  country  in  the  world  in  which  the 
system  of  two  deliberative  assemblies  should  be 
adopted.  At  the  very  least,  the  disadvantages  of 
our  character  should  be  neutralized  by  the  admirable 
restrictions  which  Napoleon's  experience  led  him  to 


282  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

introduce.  That  system  may  still  work  well  in  a 
country  whose  action  is  circumscribed  by  the  nature 
of  its  boundaries,  as  in  England;  but  the  law  of 
primogeniture,  as  applied  to  the  descent  of  real 
estate,  is  always  essential,  and  when  that  law  is  set 
aside,  the  representative  system  becomes  sheer  non- 
sense. England  owes  its  existence  to  the  quasi- 
feudal  law  which  hands  down  the  real  estate  and 
the  family  homestead  to  the  eldest  son.  Russia  is 
founded  upon  the  feudal  law  of  autocracy.  So  that 
those  two  nations  are  making  appallingly  rapid  prog- 
ress to-day.  Austria  was  able  to  resist  our  invasion 
and  to  renew  the  war  against  Napoleon  solely  by 
virtue  of  that  same  law  of  primogeniture,  which 
keeps  the  family  influences  at  work  and  maintains 
intact  the  great  landed  estates  that  are  so  essential 
to  the  welfare  of  the  State.  The  house  of  Bourbon, 
feeling  that  it  was  being  forced  back  into  the  third 
rank  of  European  powers  through  the  fault  of  liber- 
alism, tried  to  hold  its  place,  and  the  country  over- 
threw it  at  the  very  moment  that  it  was  saving  the 
country.  I  do  not  know  how  far  down  the  present 
system  will  carry  us." 

"  If  war  comes,  France  will  be  without  horses  as 
Napoleon  was  in  1813,  when,  being  reduced  to  the 
product  of  France  alone,  he  was  unable  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  victories  of  Lutzen  and  Bautzen,  and 
was  crushed  at  Leipsic !"  cried  Grossetete.  "  If 
peace  continues,  the  evil  will  increase  all  the  time: 
in  twenty-five  years  cattle  and  horses  will  have 
diminished  by  half  in  France." 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  283 

"Monsieur  Grossete"te  is  right,"  said  Gerard. — 
"And  so,  madame,"  he  added,  addressing  Veronique, 
"the  work  which  you  propose  to  undertake  here 
will  be  a  great  service  to  the  country." 

"Yes,"  said  the  justice  of  the  peace,  "because 
madame  has  only  one  son.  Will  that  fortunate  con- 
dition of  things  be  perpetuated?  During  a  consider- 
able number  of  years,  the  great  and  magnificent 
stock-farm  which  you  will  succeed,  let  us  hope,  in 
establishing  here,  belonging  to  a  single  person,  will 
continue  to  produce  horses  and  horned  beasts.  But, 
in  spite  of  everything,  the  day  will  come  when 
forests  and  fields  will  be  either  divided  or  sold  in 
lots.  By  successive  subdivisions,  the  six  thousand 
acres  of  your  plain  will  eventually  belong  to  a  thou- 
sand or  twelve  hundred  owners,  and  then  no  more 
horses  or  cattle." 

"  Oh!  when  that  time  comes — "  began  the  mayor. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  'What  difference  does  it  make  to 
me  ?'  that  Monsieur  Clousier  referred  to?"  cried  Mon- 
sieur Grossete"te;  "there  it  is,  caught  in  the  act. — 
Why,  monsieur,"  he  added,  in  a  serious  tone,  ad- 
dressing the  stupefied  mayor,  "that  time  has  come! 
Within  a  radius  of  ten  leagues  around  Paris  the 
country  has  been  so  divided  and  subdivided  that 
it  will  scarcely  furnish  pasturage  for  milch  cows. 
The  commune  of  Argenteuil  contains  thirty-eight 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  eighty-five  distinct 
parcels  of  land,  some  of  which  do  not  yield  fifteen 
centimes  a  year!  If  it  were  not  for  the  rich  manure 
they  get  from  Paris,  which  enables  them  to  raise 


284  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

fodder  of  superior  quality,  I  don't  see  how  the  milk- 
men could  get  along.  Even  as  it  is  now,  that  rich 
food  and  keeping  the  cows  in  the  shed  make  them 
subject  to  inflammatory  troubles.  Cows  are  used 
up  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris,  just  as  horses  are 
used  up  in  the  streets.  Crops  more  lucrative  than 
hay — vegetables,  fruit,  nurseries,  vineyards  —  are 
reducing  the  grass-fields  to  infinitesimal  proportions. 
A  few  years  more  and  milk  will  come  to  Paris  by 
the  mail-coach  as  fish  comes  now.  The  same 
thing  that  is  taking  place  around  Paris  is  taking 
place  in  the  outskirts  of  all  the  large  cities.  The 
evil  of  the  excessive  subdivision  of  estates  prevails 
around  a  hundred  cities  in  France,  and  will  soon 
consume  it  altogether.  According  to  Chaptal,  there 
were,  in  1800,  hardly  two  million  hectares  in  vine- 
yards; accurate  statistics  would  show  at  least  ten 
millions  to-day.  Subdivided  ad  infinitum  by  our 
system  of  succession,  Normandie  will  lose  half  of 
its  output  of  horses  and  cattle;  but  it  will  have  a 
monopoly  in  milk  in  Paris,  for  its  climate  is  fortu- 
nately opposed  to  the  cultivation  of  the  vine.  The 
constant  rise  in  the  price  of  meat  will  be  a  curious 
phenomenon.  In  1850,  twenty  years  hence,  Paris, 
which  paid  from  seven  to  eleven  sous  a  pound  in 
1814,  will  pay  twenty  sous,  unless  a  man  comes  for- 
ward who  is  able  to  carry  out  the  idea  of  Charles  X." 
' '  You  have  put  your  finger  on  the  great  sore  of 
France,"  said  the  justice  of  the  peace.  "  The  cause 
of  the  trouble  is  to  be  found  in  the  title  Successions 
of  the  Civil  Code,  which  provides  for  the  equal 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  285 

distribution  of  property.  There  is  the  pestle  whose 
constant  working  crumbles  up  the  territory,  indi- 
vidualizes fortunes  by  depriving  them  of  the  neces- 
sary stability,  and,  by  disintegrating  without  ever 
reconstructing,  will  end  by  destroying  France.  The 
French  Revolution  emitted  a  destructive  virus  to 
which  the  three  days  of  July  have  imparted  renewed 
activity.  That  morbific  principle  is  the  accession  of 
the  peasant  to  land-ownership.  If  the  chapter  of  Suc- 
cessions is  the  active  principle  of  the  disease,  the  peas- 
ant is  its  means  of  contagion.  The  peasant  gives 
back  no  part  of  what  he  has  gained.  When  that  ogre 
has  once  taken  a  parcel  of  land  in  his  always  open 
maw,  he  subdivides  it  so  long  as  three  furrows 
remain.  Even  then  he  doesn't  stop!  He  divides  the 
three  furrows  in  their  length,  as  monsieur  has  just 
shown  you  by  the  example  of  the  commune  of 
Argenteuil.  The  absurd  value  that  the  peasant 
attaches  to  the  smallest  parcels  makes  the  recon- 
stitution  of  the  original  estate  impossible.  In  the 
first  place,  law  and  procedure  are  annulled  by  this 
subdivision,  property  becomes  an  absurdity.  But  it 
is  nothing  to  see  the  treasury  and  the  law  lose  their 
power  over  parcels  which  make  their  wisest  pro- 
visions of  no  effect;  there  are  much  greater  evils 
than  that.  There  are  landed  proprietors  with  in- 
comes of  fifteen  and  twenty -five  centimes! — Mon- 
sieur," said  Clousier,  pointing  to  Grossete'te,  "has 
spoken  of  the  diminution  of  horses  and  cattle:  the 
present  laws  are  responsible  for  a  great  part  of  it. 
The  peasant  proprietor  has  nothing  but  cows,  he 


286  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

gets  his  living  from  them,  he  sells  calves,  he  sells 
butter;  it  does  not  occur  to  him  to  raise  oxen,  much 
less  horses,  but,  as  he  never  raises  enough  fodder  to 
carry  him  through  a  year  of  drought,  he  sends  his 
cows  to  market  when  he  can  no  longer  feed  them. 
If,  by  a  fatal  chance,  the  hay-crop  should  fail  two 
years  in  succession,  you  would  see  extraordinary 
changes  in  the  price  of  beef,  and  even  more  in  the 
price  of  veal,  in  Paris,  during  the  third  year." 

"  In  that  case,  how  shall  we  be  able  to  give  patri- 
otic banquets?"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh!"  cried  Madame  Graslin,  with  a  glance  at 
Roubaud,  "  cannot  politics  dispense  with  the  petty 
newspaper  anywhere,  even  here?" 

"The  bourgeoisie,"  continued  Clousier,  "play 
the  part  of  the  American  pioneer  in  this  horrible 
condition  of  affairs.  They  purchase  great  estates, 
with  which  the  peasant  can  do  nothing,  and  divide 
them  up  among  themselves;  then,  after  they  have 
been  well  masticated  and  subdivided,  sales  by  auc- 
tion in  small  lots  turn  them  over  to  the  peasant 
sooner  or  later.  Everything  is  expressed  in  figures 
to-day.  I  know  none  more  eloquent  than  these: 
France  contains  forty-nine  millions  of  hectares  which 
it  would  be  advisable  to  reduce  to  forty;  we  must 
subtract  from  it  the  main  highways  and  other  roads, 
sand-dunes,  canals,  unproductive  and  wild  land,  and 
land  deserted  by  capital,  like  the  plain  of  Montegnac. 
Now,  in  these  forty  millions  of  hectares  for  thirty- 
two  million  inhabitants,  there  are  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  millions  of  separate  parcels  on  the  list  of 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  287 

taxed  estates.  I  have  omitted  fractions.  Thus  we 
have  gone  beyond  the  agrarian  law  and  we  are  not 
at  the  end  either  of  destitution  or  discord !  The  men 
who  divide  the  land  into  crumbs  and  diminish  pro- 
duction will  have  organs  to  cry  out  that  true  social 
justice  would  consist  in  not  giving  to  anyone  more 
than  the  usufruct  of  his  estate.  They  will  say  that 
perpetual  ownership  is  a  theft!  The  Saint-Simonians 
have  made  a  beginning." 

"The  magistrate  has  spoken,"  said  Grossete"te; 
"this  is  what  the  banker  has  to  add  to  his  coura- 
geous observations.  The  throwing  open  of  land 
ownership  to  the  peasant  and  the  petty  bourgeois 
has  done  France  an  immense  injury  which  the  gov- 
ernment does  not  even  suspect.  We  may  reckon 
at  three  millions  of  families  the  great  bulk  of  the 
peasantry,  making  due  allowance  for  paupers.  Those 
families  live  on  wages.  Wages  are  paid  in  money 
instead  of  in  kind — " 

"Another  tremendous  mistake  in  our  laws!"  cried 
Clousier,  interrupting  him.  "  The  right  to  pay  in 
kind  could  be  established  in  1790;  but  to  pass  such 
a  law  to-day  would  be  to  risk  a  revolution." 

"And  so,"  continued  Grossetete,  "  the  proletariat 
attracts  all  the  money  of  the  country.  Now  the 
peasant  has  no  other  passion,  no  other  longing,  no 
other  wish,  no  other  aim,  than  to  die  a  landed  pro- 
prietor. That  desire,  as  Monsieur  Clousier  has  well 
set  forth,  was  born  of  the  Revolution;  it  is  the  result 
of  the  sale  of  national  property.  One  can  have  no 
idea  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  heart  of  the  country 


288  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

districts,  not  to  admit  as  a  constant  fact,  that  those 
three  millions  of  families  hoard  up  fifty  francs  each 
annually,  and  thus  remove  a  hundred  and  fifty 
millions  of  money  from  circulation.  The  science 
of  political  economy  has  placed  in  the  category  of 
axioms  the  fact  that  a  five-franc  piece,  which  passes 
through  a  hundred  hands  in  a  day,  is  positively  the 
equivalent  of  five  hundred  francs.  Now,  it  is  cer- 
tain to  us  old  observers  of  the  state  of  the  coun- 
try districts,  that  the  peasant  selects  his  land;  he 
watches  it  and  attends  to  it,  and  never  invests  his  cap- 
ital. Purchases  by  peasants  should  be  calculated  by 
periods  of  seven  years.  Thus  peasants  leave  eleven 
hundred  millions  unproductive  and  quiescent  for 
seven  years;  but,  as  the  petty  bourgeoisie  hoards 
as  much  more  and  acts  in  the  same  way  with  regard 
to  estates  which  are  out  of  the  peasant's  reach,  in 
forty-two  years  France  loses  the  interest  on  at  least 
two  billions, — that  is  to  say,  about  a  hundred  millions 
in  seven  years  or  six  hundred  millions  in  forty-two 
years.  But  it  does  not  lose  simply  those  six  hun- 
dred millions,  for  it  has  failed  to  invest  six  hundred 
millions  in  industrial  or  agricultural  enterprises, 
which  failure  represents  a  loss  of  twelve  hundred 
millions;  for  if  the  industrial  product  were  not  worth 
twice  its  net  cost  in  cash,  commerce  could  not  exist. 
The  common  people  deprive  themselves  of  six  hun- 
dred millions  in  wages!  Those  six  hundred  millions 
of  clear  loss — which,  to  a  strict  economist,  repre- 
sent a  loss  of  about  twelve  hundred  millions  because 
of  the  benefit  that  would  be  derived  from  having  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  289 

money  in  circulation — explain  the  inferior  condition 
of  our  commerce,  our  agriculture,  and  our  navy, 
compared  with  those  of  England.  Notwithstanding 
the  difference  between  the  respective  possessions  of 
the  two  countries, — a  difference  in  our  favor  in  the 
ratio  of  more  than  two  to  one, — England  could  equip 
the  cavalry  for  two  French  army  corps,  and  enough 
fresh  meat  is  produced  there  for  the  whole  world. 
But  in  that  country,  as  the  tax  on  real  estate  makes 
its  acquisition  almost  impossible  for  the  lower  classes, 
every  piece  of  money  goes  into  business  and  circu- 
lates. Thus,  in  addition  to  the  curse  of  excessive 
subdivision  of  estates  and  that  of  the  diminution  of 
the  output  of  cattle,  horses,  and  sheep,  the  chapter 
on  Successions  is  also  responsible  for  a  loss  of  six 
hundred  millions  by  the  hoarding  of  the  capital  of 
the  peasant  and  bourgeois,  twelve  hundred  millions 
in  curtailment  of  production,  or  three  billions  of  non- 
circulation  in  a  half-century!" 

"The  moral  effect  is  worse  than  the  material 
effect!"  cried  the  cure.  "We  manufacture  land- 
owners who  go  about  begging  among  the  people, 
semi-learned  men  among  the  petty  bourgeois;  and 
the  'Chacun  che^  soi;  chacun  pour  soi,'  which  had 
produced  its  effect  upon  the  upper  classes  in  July  of 
last  year,  will  soon  have  infected  the  middle  classes. 
A  proletariat  accustomed  to  do  without  feelings,  with 
no  other  god  than  envy,  with  no  other  fanaticism 
than  the  despair  caused  by  hunger,  without  faith  or 
belief,  will  come  forward  and  put  its  foot  on  the 
country's  heart.  The  stranger,  grown  great  under 


2QO  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

monarchical  institutions,  will  find  us  with  a  kingdom 
but  no  king,  with  legality  but  no  laws,  with  property 
but  no  proprietors,  with  elections  but  no  govern- 
ment, with  freedom  of  will  but  no  strength,  with 
equality  but  no  happiness.  Let  us  hope  that,  ere 
that  day  comes,  God  will  raise  up  a  providential 
man  in  France,  one  of  those  elect  who  impart  a  new 
spirit  to  nations;  and  that,  whether  he  be  a  Marius 
or  a  Sylla,  whether  he  rises  from  below  or  descends 
from  above,  he  will  remodel  society." 

"We  shall  begin  by  sending  him  to  the  police 
court  or  the  assizes,"  rejoined  Gerard.  "  The  judg- 
ment of  Socrates  and  that  of  Jesus  Christ  would  be 
given  against  him  in  1831,  as  in  the  old  days  at 
Jerusalem  and  in  Attica.  To-day,  as  formerly, 
jealous  mediocrities  leave  thinkers  to  die  in  their 
poverty,  although  they  are  the  great  political  physi- 
cians who  have  studied  the  diseases  of  France,  and 
who  hold  out  against  the  spirit  of  their  age.  If  they 
do  not  succumb  to  want,  we  turn  them  to  ridicule  or 
treat  them  as  dreamers.  In  France  it  is  fashionable 
to  rebel  against  the  great  man  of  the  future  in  the 
moral  order,  just  as  it  is  to  rebel  against  the  sov- 
ereign in  the  political  order." 

"  In  the  old  days  the  sophists  spoke  to  a  small 
number  of  men  only;  to-day  the  periodical  press 
enables  them  to  lead  a  whole  nation  astray,"  cried 
the  justice  of  the  peace;  "and  the  portion  of  the 
press  that  pleads  for  common  sense  finds  no  echo!" 

The  mayor  gazed  at  Monsieur  Clousier  in  profound 
amazement.  Madame  Graslin,  overjoyed  to  find  in 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  291 

a  simple  justice  of  the  peace  a  man  whose  mind  was 
bent  upon  such  serious  questions,  said  to  Monsieur 
Roubaud,  her  neighbor: 

"  Would  you  know  Monsieur  Clousier?" 

"  I  did  not  really  know  him  until  to-day.  Madame, 
you  perform  miracles!"  he  said  in  her  ear.  "  But 
look  at  his  forehead:  what  a  beautiful  shape!  Does 
it  not  resemble  the  classic  or  traditional  forehead 
given  by  sculptors  to  Lycurgus  and  the  sages  of 
Greece? — Evidently  the  revolution  of  July  has  an 
anti-political  meaning,"  he  said,  aloud,  having  di- 
gested the  figures  given  by  Grossetete,  that  former 
student,  who  might,  perhaps,  have  helped  throw  up 
a  barricade. 

"  It  has  a  threefold  meaning,"  said  Clousier. 
"  You  have  covered  its  bearing  upon  law  and  finance, 
but  this  is  what  it  has  to  say  concerning  the  govern- 
ment. The  royal  power,  weakened  by  the  dogma 
of  national  sovereignty,  by  virtue  of  which  the  elec- 
tion of  August  9,  1830,  was  held,  will  try  to  combat 
that  rival  principle,  which  would  leave  to  the  people 
the  right  to  give  themselves  a  new  dynasty  when- 
ever they  fail  to  grasp  the  purpose  of  their  king:  and 
we  shall  have  an  internal  struggle  which  certainly 
will  arrest  the  progress  of  France  for  a  long  time  to 
come." 

"  All  these  reefs  have  been  wisely  avoided  by 
England,"  observed  Gerard;  "I  have  been  there, 
and  I  admire  that  beehive  which  sends  forth  its 
swarms  over  the  universe  and  civilizes  it;  where 
discussion  is  a  political  comedy  intended  to  satisfy 


292  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

the  people  and  to  conceal  the  action  of  the  govern- 
ment, which  enjoys  perfect  freedom  of  motion  in  its 
high  sphere;  and  where  elections  are  not  in  the 
hands  of  the  stupid  middle  class,  as  they  are  in 
France.  With  the  parcelling  out  of  real  estate,  Eng- 
land would  have  ceased  to  exist  ere  this.  The  great 
land-owners,  the  peers,  manage  the  social  mechan- 
ism there.  Their  navy  seizes  upon  whole  slices  of 
the  globe,  in  the  teeth  of  all  Europe,  to  satisfy  the 
needs  of  their  commerce  and  to  provide  places  to  put 
the  unfortunate  and  the  discontented.  Instead  of 
making  war  on  men  of  capacity,  of  thrusting  them 
out  of  sight,  of  underrating  them,  the  English  aris- 
tocracy constantly  seeks  them  out,  rewards  them 
and  assimilates  them.  Among  the  English,  speedy 
action  is  the  rule  in  everything  relating  to  the  govern- 
ment, in  the  choice  of  men  and  things,  whereas  with 
us  everything  is  slow;  and  by  nature  they  are  slow 
and  we  are  impatient.  With  them  money  is  enter- 
prising and  busy;  with  us  it  is  timid  and  suspicious. 
What  Monsieur  Grossetete  says  of  the  industrial 
losses  which  the  peasant  causes  France  is  con- 
firmed by  a  picture  which  I  will  draw  for  you  in  two 
words.  English  capital,  by  its  continual  movement, 
has  created  industrial  values  and  shares  yielding  in- 
come to  the  amount  of  ten  billions,  whereas  French 
capital,  superior  in  point  of  abundance,  has  not 
created  a  tenth  part  of  that  amount." 

"That  is  the  more  extraordinary,"  said  Roubaud, 
"  because  they  are  naturally  sluggish,  and  we,  as  a 
general  rule,  are  impulsive  or  nervous." 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  293 

"  There  is  a  great  question  to  be  studied,  mon- 
sieur," said  Clousier:  "  To  discover  what  institutions 
are  best  fitted  to  hold  the  temperament  of  a  people 
in  check.  Cromwell  was  unquestionably  a  great 
legislator.  He  alone  made  the  England  of  to-day  by 
devising  the  Navigation  Act,  which  made  the  English 
the  enemies  of  all  other  nations,  which  inoculated 
them  with  a  fierce  national  pride,  their  mainstay. 
But,  notwithstanding  their  fortress  of  Malta,  if 
France  and  Russia  should  comprehend  some  day  the 
possibilities  of  the  Black  Sea  and  the  Mediterranean, 
the  route  through  Asia  by  way  of  Egypt,  or  by  way 
of  the  Euphrates,  perfected  by  means  of  new  discov- 
eries, will  kill  England,  just  as  the  discovery  of  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope  killed  Venice." 

"And  God  counts  for  nothing!"  cried  the  cure. 
"  Monsieur  Clousier  and  Monsieur  Roubaud  are  indif- 
ferent in  the  matter  of  religion.  And  monsieur?" 
he  said,  in  a  questioning  tone,  to  Gerard. 

"Protestant,"  Grossete'te  replied. 

"You  guessed  as  much!"  cried  Veronique,  look- 
ing at  the  cure,  as  she  offered  her  hand  to  Clousier 
to  go  up  to  her  own  apartments. 

The  unfavorable  impression  created  by  Gerard's 
exterior  was  speedily  dissipated,  and  the  three  nota- 
bles of  Montegnac  congratulated  themselves  on  such 
an  acquisition. 

"Unfortunately,"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet,  "there 
exists  between  Russia  and  the  Catholic  countries 
washed  by  the  Mediterranean  a  cause  of  antagonism 
in  the  unimportant  schism  which  separates  the 


294  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Greek  Church  from  the  Latin  Church,  a  great  mis- 
fortune for  the  future  of  mankind." 

"  Everyone  preaches  for  his  own  saint,"  said 
Madame  Graslin,  with  a  smile.  "  Monsieur  Grosse- 
te"te  thinks  of  the  billions  thrown  away;  Monsieur 
Clousier,  of  the  overturning  of  the  law;  the  physi- 
cian sees  in  legislation  a  question  of  temperaments; 
monsieur  le  cure  sees  in  religion  an  obstacle  to  a 
perfect  understanding  between  Russia  and  France." 

"Add,  madame,"  said  Gerard,  "that  I  see  in  the 
locking  up  of  capital  by  the  petty  bourgeoisie  and  the 
peasantry  the  postponement  of  the  building  of  rail- 
roads in  France." 

"  What  would  you  have,  pray?"  she  said. 

"  Oh!  the  admirable  councillors  of  State,  who, 
under  the  Empire,  devised  the  laws,  and  the  Corps 
Legislatif,  chosen  by  the  talented  men  of  the  country 
as  well  as  by  the  land-owners,  and  whose  only  func- 
tion was  to  oppose  bad  laws  and  wars  based  upon 
caprice!  As  it  is  constituted  to-day,  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  as  you  will  see,  will  come  to  be  the  gov- 
erning power,  and  the  result  will  be  anarchy  under 
the  forms  of  law." 

"  O  my  God  !"  cried  the  cure,  in  a  burst  of  devout 
patriotism,  "how  does  it  happen  that  such  enlight- 
ened minds  as  these" — and  he  pointed  to  Clousier, 
Roubaud,  and  Gerard — "  see  the  evil,  point  out  the 
remedy,  yet  do  not  begin  by  applying  it  to  them- 
selves? All  of  you  who  represent  the  classes  as- 
sailed recognize  the  necessity  of  passive  obedience 
of  the  masses  in  the  State,  as  among  soldiers  in  war; 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  295 

you  desire  unity  of  power,  and  you  desire  that  it 
should  never  be  brought  in  question.  What  England 
has  obtained  by  the  development  of  pride  and 
human  selfishness,  which  are  a  sort  of  faith,  can  be 
obtained  here  in  France  only  by  the  sentiments 
inspired  by  Catholicism,  and  you  are  not  Catholics! 
I,  priest  as  I  am,  lay  aside  my  proper  character,  I 
argue  with  arguers.  How  can  you  expect  that  the 
masses  will  become  religious  and  obey,  if  they  see 
irreligion  and  insubordination  above  them?  A  people 
united  by  a  faith  of  any  sort  will  always  win  an 
easy  victory  over  men  of  no  faith.  The  law  of 
the  general  welfare,  which  engenders  patriotism,  is 
instantly  destroyed  by  the  law  of  private  interests, 
which  it  justifies,  and  which  engenders  egotism. 
Nothing  is  solid  and  enduring,  save  that  which  is 
natural,  and  the  natural  thing  in  politics  is  the 
family.  The  family  should  be  the  starting-point  of 
all  institutions.  A  universal  effect  proves  the  exist- 
ence of  a  universal  cause;  and  the  defects  that  you 
have  pointed  to  on  all  sides  come  from  the  social 
principle  itself,  which  is  without  strength  because  it 
has  taken  free-will  for  its  basis,  and  free-will  is  the 
father  of  individualism.  To  make  happiness  depend 
upon  the  safety,  the  intelligence,  the  capacity  of  all 
is  not  so  wise  as  to  make  it  depend  upon  the  safety 
and  intelligence  of  our  institutions  and  the  capacity 
of  a  single  man.  It  is  an  easier  matter  to  find 
wisdom  in  one  man  than  in  a  whole  nation.  Nations 
have  hearts  but  no  eyes,  they  feel  and  do  not  see. 
Governments  ought  to  see,  and  never  be  swayed  by 


296  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

sentiment.  There  is,  therefore,  an  evident  contra- 
diction between  the  first  impulses  of  the  masses  and 
the  action  of  the  ruling  power,  which  should  estab- 
lish its  strength  and  its  unity.  To  fall  in  with  a 
great  prince  is  a  result  of  chance,  to  use  your  lan- 
guage; but  to  trust  to  any  assembly  whatsoever, 
even  though  it  be  composed  of  honorable  men,  is 
madness.  France  is  mad  at  this  moment!  Alas! 
you  are  convinced  of  it  as  well  as  I.  If  all  men  of 
good  faith,  like  yourselves,  should  set  the  example 
to  those  about  them,  if  all  intelligent  hands  should 
help  to  exalt  the  altars  of  the  great  republic  of  souls, 
of  the  only  Church  that  has  led  mankind  in  the 
right  path,  we  might  see  again  in  France  the  mira- 
cles that  our  ancestors  performed  here." 

"What  would  you  have,  monsieur  le  cure?" 
said  Gerard;  "  if  I  must  speak  to  you  as  if  I  were  in 
the  confessional,  I  look  upon  faith  as  a  lie  that  a 
man  tells  himself,  hope  as  a  lie  that  he  tells  himself 
concerning  the  future,  and  your  charity  as  the  strat- 
agem of  a  child  who  behaves  himself  in  order  to  get 
some  cake." 

"  And  yet  one  sleeps  very  peacefully,  monsieur," 
said  Madame  Graslin,  "when  hope  smoothes  the 
pillow." 

Those  words  silenced  Roubaud,  who  was  about  to 
speak,  and  they  were  approved  by  a  glance  from 
Grossete"te  and  the  cure. 

"  Is  it  our  fault,"  said  Clousier,  "  if  Jesus  Christ 
had  not  time  to  found  a  government  in  accordance 
with  his  moral  system,  as  Moses  did  and  Confucius, 


MADAME  GRASLIN,  CATHERINE,  AND 
MONSIEUR   GROSSETETE 


"Here  is  your  protegee"  said  the  old  man,  pre- 
senting to  Veronique  a  woman  of  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  ill  and  weak. 

"  You  are  Catherine  Curieux  ?  "  said  Veronique. 

"Yes,  madame" 

Veronique  looked  at  her  for  a  moment. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  297 

the  two  greatest  human  legislators?  for  the  Jews 
and  the  Chinese  exist  to-day  as  nations,  the  former, 
notwithstanding  their  dispersion  over  the  face  of  the 
earth;  the  latter,  notwithstanding  their  isolation." 

"Ah!  you  give  me  plenty  of  work  to  do,"  cried 
the  cure,  ingenuously;  "  but  I  will  triumph,  I  will 
convert  you  all !  You  are  nearer  to  having  faith 
than  you  imagine.  Truth  crouches  behind  false- 
hood; go  forward  a  step  and  turn  about!" 

At  that  cry  from  the  cure,  the  conversation  took 
a  different  turn. 

The  next  day,  before  taking  his  leave,  Monsieur 
Grossetete  promised  Veronique  to  become  a  partner 
in  her  projects  as  soon  as  their  realization  should  be 
decided  to  be  possible.  Madame  Graslin  and  Gerard 
rode  beside  his  carriage  and  did  not  leave  him  until 
they  reached  the  junction  of  the  Montegnac  road 
and  the  road  from  Bordeaux  to  Lyon.  The  en- 
gineer was  so  impatient  to  go  over  the  ground  and 
Veronique  so  desirous  to  show  it  to  him,  that  they 
had  planned  the  excursion  the  day  before.  Hav- 
ing bade  the  excellent  old  man  farewell,  they  rode 
across  the  vast  moor  and  skirted  the  base  of  the 
chain  of  hills,  from  the  slope  leading  up  to  the 
chateau  to  the  peak  of  the  Roche-Wve.  The  en- 
gineer at  once  detected  the  continuous  bank  de- 
scribed by  Farrabesche,  which  formed,  as  it  were, 
the  last  layer  of  the  foundation  of  the  hills.  Thus, 
by  directing  the  streams  so  that  they  would  not 
overflow  the  indestructible  canal  that  nature  had 
itself  made,  and  clearing  it  of  the  earth  that  had 


298  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

choked  it  up,  the  work  of  irrigation  would  be  facili- 
tated by  that  long  conduit,  raised  about  ten  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  plain.  The  first  calculation, 
and  the  only  decisive  one  to  be  made,  was  of  the 
quantity  of  water  that  flowed  through  the  Gabou; 
and  it  was  advisable  also  to  make  sure  whether 
the  sides  of  the  valley  would  allow  the  water  to 
escape. 

Veronique  gave  Farrabesche  a  horse  and  bade 
him  accompany  the  engineer  and  point  out  to  him 
everything  he  had  noticed,  to  the  most  trifling  de- 
tail. After  a  few  days'  study,  Gerard  found  that 
the  bases  of  the  two  parallel  chains,  although  of 
different  composition,  were  sufficiently  solid  to  hold 
back  the  water.  During  the  month  of  January, 
which  was  rainy,  he  estimated  the  quantity  of  water 
carried  down  by  the  Gabou.  That  quantity,  in- 
creased by  the  supply  from  three  springs  which 
could  be  turned  into  the  stream,  was  sufficient  to 
irrigate  an  area  three  times  greater  than  that  of 
the  plain  of  Montegnac.  The  damming  of  the 
Gabou,  the  construction  of  the  works  required  to 
direct  the  water  through  the  three  valleys  to  the 
plain,  would  not  cost  more  than  sixty  thousand 
francs,  for  the  engineer  discovered  in  the  common 
lands  a  calcareous  deposit  which  would  furnish 
lime  at  a  small  expense,  and  the  forest  was  close 
at  hand:  stone  and  wood  cost  nothing  and  required 
no  outlay  for  carting.  Pending  the  arrival  of  the 
season  when  the  Gabou  would  be  dry,  the  only 
time  when  these  works  could  be  undertaken,  the 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  299 

necessary  materials  could  be  laid  in  and  prepara- 
tions made,  so  that  the  main  work  could  go  for- 
ward rapidly.  But  the  preparation  of  the  plain  to 
receive  the  water  would  cost,  in  Gerard's  opinion, 
at  least  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  not  including 
sowing  or  planting.  The  plain  would  have  to  be 
divided  into  rectangular  plots  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  acres  each,  where  the  ground  was  not  to  be 
cleared,  but  only  the  largest  stones  removed.  Ditch- 
ers would  have  to  be  employed  to  dig  a  great  num- 
ber of  ditches  and  stone  them,  so  that  the  water 
would  not  run  off  and  could  be  made  to  flow  or  rise 
at  will.  That  work  required  the  active  and  faithful 
arms  of  conscientious  laborers.  Chance  afforded  a 
location  without  obstacles,  a  level  plain;  the  water, 
which  had  a  fall  of  ten  feet,  could  be  distributed 
at  pleasure;  there  was  nothing  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  obtaining  the  most  satisfactory  results,  from  an 
agricultural  standpoint,  producing  magnificent  carpets 
of  verdure,  like  those  which  are  the  pride  and  the 
fortune  of  Lombardy.  Gerard  sent  to  the  province 
in  which  he  had  previously  been  stationed  for  an  old 
and  experienced  assistant  engineer,  named  Fresquin. 
Madame  Graslin  wrote  to  Grosset§te  to  negotiate 
for  her  a  loan  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs,  secured  by  her  stock  in  the  public  funds, 
the  income  of  which,  if  allowed  to  accumulate  for 
six  years,  would  suffice,  according  to  Gerard's  cal- 
culations, to  pay  principal  and  interest.  The  loan 
was  negotiated  in  March.  Gerard's  plans,  formu- 
lated with  the  assistance  of  Fresquin,  were  by  that 


300  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

time  entirely  perfected,  as  well  as  the  taking  of 
levels,  soundings,  observations,  and  drawings.  The 
news  of  that  vast  undertaking,  being  circulated 
through  the  whole  district,  had  stimulated  the 
poorer  part  of  the  population.  The  indefatigable 
Farrabesche,  Colorat,  Clousier,  the  Mayor  of  Mon- 
tegnac, Roubaud,  all  those  who  were  interested  in 
the  welfare  of  the  canton  or  in  Madame  Graslin, 
selected  workmen  for  her,  or  pointed  out  poor  men 
who  deserved  to  be  employed.  Gerard  purchased, 
on  his  own  account  and  Monsieur  Grossetete's,  a 
thousand  acres  on  the  other  side  of  the  Montegnac 
road.  Fresquin,  the  assistant,  also  took  five  hun- 
dred acres  and  sent  for  his  wife  and  children  to 
come  to  Montegnac. 

In  the  early  part  of  April,  1833,  Monsieur  Grosse- 
te"te  came  to  inspect  the  land  purchased  by  Gerard; 
but  his  visit  to  Montegnac  was  due  mainly  to  the  ar- 
rival of  Catherine  Curieux,  whom  Madame  Graslin 
was  expecting,  and  who  had  come  from  Paris  to 
Limoges  by  diligence.  He  found  Madame  Graslin 
about  to  start  for  church.  Monsieur  Bonnet  was 
to  say  mass  to  invoke  Heaven's  blessing  upon  the 
work  about  to  begin.  All  the  laborers,  all  the 
women  and  children  were  present. 

"  Here  is  your  protegee,"  said  the  old  man,  pre- 
senting to  Veronique  a  woman  of  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  ill  and  weak. 

"You  are  Catherine  Curieux?"  said  Veronique. 

"  Yes,  madame." 

Veronique  looked  at  her  for  a  moment.     She  saw 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  301 

a  tall,  well-built,  fair-haired  girl,  with  features  of 
extreme  gentleness,  nor  was  their  expression  contra- 
dicted by  the  lovely  gray  tint  of  her  eyes.  The 
contour  of  the  face,  the  shape  of  the  forehead,  were 
of  a  noble  cast,  at  once  august  and  simple,  which 
is  sometimes  seen  in  the  country  in  very  young 
girls,  a  sort  of  flower  of  beauty,  which  hard  work 
in  the  fields,  the  never-ending  cares  of  housekeep- 
ing, exposure  to  the  sun,  and  lack  of  proper  care, 
cause  them  to  lose  with  terrifying  rapidity.  Her 
attitude  denoted  that  ease  of  movement  which  char- 
acterizes country  girls,  to  which  habits  involuntarily 
adopted  in  Paris  gave  additional  charm.  If  she  had 
remained  in  La  Correze,  Catherine  would  certainly 
have  been  already  wrinkled  and  worn;  her  coloring, 
formerly  brilliant,  would  have  become  coarse;  but 
Paris,  while  lessening  her  color,  had  preserved  her 
beauty;  sickness,  fatigue,  grief,  had  endowed  her 
with  the  mysterious  gifts  of  melancholy,  with  that 
secret  depth  of  thought  which  is  lacking  in  unfor- 
tunate country-folk,  accustomed  to  an  almost  ani- 
mal life.  Her  costume,  marked  by  the  Parisian 
good  taste,  of  which  all  women,  even  the  least 
coquettish,  learn  the  secret  so  quickly,  distinguished 
her  even  more  from  the  ordinary  peasant.  Ignorant 
as  she  was  of  what  her  fate  was  to  be,  and  having 
no  means  of  judging  Madame  Graslin's  character, 
she  seemed  decidedly  shamefaced. 

"  Do  you  still  love  Farrabesche?"  Madame  Graslin 
asked  her,  when  Grossete"te  had  left  them  alone  for 
a  time. 


302  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"Yes,  madame,"  she  replied,  with  a  blush. 

"Why,  if  you  cared  enough  for  him  to  send  him 
a  thousand  francs  while  he  was  undergoing  his  pun- 
ishment, did  you  not  go  to  meet  him  when  he  was 
released?  Have  you  any  feeling  of  repugnance  for 
him?  Speak  to  me  as  to  your  mother.  Were  you 
afraid  that  he  had  become  altogether  bad,  that  he  no 
longer  cared  for  you?" 

"  No,  madame;  but  I  couldn't  read  or  write;  I 
was  working  for  a  very  exacting  old  lady,  and  she 
fell  sick  so  that  she  had  to  be  nursed,  and  I  had 
to  nurse  her.  Although  I  had  figured  that  the  day 
for  Jacques  to  be  discharged  was  approaching,  I 
wasn't  able  to  leave  Paris  until  after  the  death  of 
that  lady,  who  left  me  nothing  in  spite  of  my  de- 
votion to  her  interests  and  her  person.  Before 
coming  back,  I  was  anxious  to  be  cured  of  a  trouble 
caused  by  loss  of  sleep  and  the  hard  work  I  had  done. 
After  I  had  used  up  all  my  savings,  I  had  to  make 
up  my  mind  to  go  to  the  Saint-Louis  hospital,  and  I 
have  just  been  discharged,  cured." 

"Very  good,  my  child,"  said  Madame  Graslin, 
touched  by  that  simple  explanation.  "  But  tell  me, 
now,  why  you  deserted  your  parents  without  warn- 
ing, why  you  left  your  child,  why  you  have  never 
sent  any  word  to  them  or  asked  someone  to  write." 

For  all  reply,  Catherine  wept. 

"Madame, "she  said,  at  last,  reassured  by  the 
pressure  of  Veronique's  hand,  "I  do  not  know 
whether  I  was  wrong,  but  it  was  beyond  my 
strength  to  remain  in  the  province.  I  did  not 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  303 

doubt  myself,  but  other  people;  1  was  afraid  of 
the  gossip  and  idle  talk.  So  long  as  Jacques  was 
in  danger  here,  I  was  necessary  to  him;  but  when 
he  had  gone,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  helpless.  To  be 
an  unmarried  girl,  with  a  child  and  no  husband ! 
the  vilest  creature  would  have  been  better  than  I. 
I  do  not  know  what  would  have  become  of  me, 
if  I  had  heard  the  slightest  word  against  Benjamin 
or  his  father.  I  should  have  killed  myself,  I  should 
.have  gone  mad.  My  father  or  mother  might  have 
reproached  me  in  a  moment  of  anger.  I  am  too 
quick-tempered  to  endure  a  reproach  or  an  insult, 
mild  as  I  am!  I  have  been  well  punished,  for  I  have 
never  been  able  to  see  my  child,  although  I  have 
not  passed  a  single  day  without  thinking  of  him  !  I 
wanted  to  be  forgotten,  and  I  was.  No  one  has 
thought  of  me.  They  have  believed  that  I  was  dead, 
and  yet  I  have  often  longed  to  leave  everything 
and  come  here  to  pass  a  day,  to  see  my  child — " 

"  See,  Catherine,  there  is  your  child  !" 

Catherine  spied  Benjamin,  and  shivered  as  if  she 
had  the  ague. 

"Benjamin,"  said  Madame  Graslin,  "come  and 
kiss  your  mother." 

"My  mother?"  cried  Benjamin,  in  surprise. 

He  leaped  upon  Catherine's  neck,  and  she  pressed 
him  to  her  heart  with  fierce  strength.  But  the 
child  made  his  escape  and  ran  away,  crying: 

"  I  am  going  to  look  for  him!  " 

Madame  Graslin,  as  she  was  assisting  Catherine, 
who  was  almost  swooning,  to  a  seat,  spied  Monsieur 


304  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

Bonnet,  and  could  not  restrain  a  blush  when  she 
received  from  her  confessor  a  piercing  glance  that 
read  her  inmost  thoughts. 

"  I  hope,  monsieur  le  cure,"  she  said,  trembling, 
"that  you  will  marry  Catherine  and  Farrabesche 
promptly? — Do  you  not  recognize  Monsieur  Bonnet, 
my  child?  He  will  tell  you  that  Farrabesche,  since 
his  return,  has  borne  himself  like  an  honest  man; 
he  has  the  esteem  of  the  whole  neighborhood;  and 
if  there  is  a  place  in  the  world  where  you  can  live, 
happily  and  well-considered,  Montegnac  is  the  place. 
God  willing,  you  will  make  your  fortune  here,  for 
you  will  be  my  farmers.  Farrabesche  has  become 
a  citizen  once  more." 

"All  this  is  true,  my  child,"  said  the  cure. 

At  that  moment,  Farrabesche  arrived,  led  by  his 
son;  he  stood  pale  and  speechless  in  the  presence  of 
Catherine  and  Madame  Graslin.  He  realized  how 
active  the  kindly  interest  of  the  one  had  been,  and 
all  that  the  other  must  have  suffered  in  not  coming 
before.  Veronique  led  away  the  cure,  who,  for  his 
part,  was  desirous  to  lead  her  away.  As  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  hearing,  Monsieur  Bonnet  gazed 
fixedly  at  his  penitent  and  saw  that  she  was  blush- 
ing; she  lowered  her  eyes  like  a  guilty  creature. 

"You  degrade  well-doing,"  he  said,  severely. 

"  How?"  she  asked,  raising  her  head. 

"To  do  good,"  replied  Monsieur  Bonnet,  "is  a 
passion  as  superior  to  love,  as  mankind,  madame,  is 
superior  to  the  individual.  Now,  all  this  is  not  to  be 
accomplished  by  mere  force  and  with  the  artlessness 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  305 

of  virtue.  You  fall  from  the  grandeur  of  humanity 
to  the  worship  of  a  single  creature!  Your  benevo- 
lence to  Farrabesche  and  Catherine  is  inspired  by 
memories  and  hidden  motives  which  take  away  all 
its  merits  in  God's  eyes.  Tear  from  your  heart  the 
remains  of  the  dart  that  the  spirit  of  evil  planted 
there.  Do  not  thus  deprive  your  good  actions  of 
their  value.  Will  you  ever  attain  that  blessed  igno- 
rance of  the  good  you  are  doing,  which  is  the  crown- 
ing grace  of  human  actions?" 

Madame  Graslin  had  turned  away  to  wipe  her 
eyes,  but  her  tears  told  the  cure  that  his  words 
touched  a  bleeding  spot  in  her  heart,  where  his 
finger  reopened  a  partly-closed  wound.  Farra- 
besche, Catherine,  and  Benjamin  came  to  thank 
their  benefactress;  but  she  motioned  to  them  to 
go  away  and  leave  her  with  Monsieur  Bonnet. 

"You  see  how  I  grieve  them!"  she  said,  pointing 
to  their  disappointed  faces. 

And  the  cure,  who  had  a  soft  heart,  motioned  to 
them  to  return. 

"  Be  perfectly  happy,"  she  said  to  them. — "  Here 
is  the  order  restoring  all  your  rights  as  a  citizen,  and 
relieving  you  from  the  formalities  that  humiliated 
you,"  she  added,  handing  Farrabesche  a  paper  that 
she  held  in  her  hand. 

Farrabesche  kissed  Veronique's  hand  respectfully, 
and  glanced  at  her  with  an  expression  at  once  affec- 
tionate and  submissive,  calm  and  devoted,  with 
that  devotion  which  nothing  can  change,  like  a  dog's 
for  his  master. 
20 


306  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"  If  Jacques  has  suffered,  madame,"  said  Cather- 
ine, in  whose  beautiful  eyes  there  was  a  smile,  "  I 
hope  to  be  able  to  give  him  as  much  happiness  as  he 
has  had  misery;  for,  whatever  he  may  have  done,  he 
isn't  wicked." 

Madame  Graslin  turned  away  her  head,  she 
seemed  crushed  by  the  sight  of  that  family,  now  so 
happy;  and  Monsieur  Bonnet  left  her  to  go  to  the 
church,  whither  she  dragged  herself  along  on  Mon- 
sieur Grossetete's  arm. 

After  breakfast,  they  all  went  to  witness  the  open- 
ing of  the  works,  which  all  the  old  people  of  Mon- 
tegnac  also  came  out  to  see.  From  the  slope  up 
which  the  avenue  to  the  chateau  ran,  Monsieur 
Grossete'te  and  Monsieur  Bonnet,  with  Veronique 
between  them,  could  see  the  location  of  the  first  four 
roads  to  be  opened,  in  the  building  of  which  the 
stones  taken  from  the  plain  were  to  be  used.  Five 
men  were  carrying  the  good  soil  to  the  edge  of  the 
fields,  clearing  a  space  eighteen  feet  wide,  the  width 
fixed  for  each  road.  On  each  side,  four  men  were 
engaged  in  digging  a  ditch,  with  the  earth  from  which 
they  raised  an  embankment  along  the  fields.  Behind 
them  came  two  men,  digging  holes  in  the  artificial 
banking,  as  it  progressed,  and  planting  trees  in  them. 
In  each  field,  thirty  able-bodied  paupers,  twenty 
women,  and  forty  girls  or  children,  in  all,  ninety 
persons,  were  picking  up  stones,  which  the  workmen 
measured  along  the  banking,  in  order  to  determine 
the  quantity  picked  up  by  each  group.  Thus  all 
branches  of  the  work  kept  pace  with  one  another, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  307 

and  progressed  rapidly,  the  workmen  being  picked 
men  and  full  of  zeal.  Grossetete  promised  Madame 
Graslin  to  send  her  some  trees  and  to  ask  his  friends 
for  some  for  her.  It  was  evident  that  the  chateau 
nurseries  would  not  furnish  enough  to  be  set  out  in 
such  numbers. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  day,  which  was  to  end 
with  a  great  dinner-party  at  the  chateau,  Farra- 
besche  begged  Madame  Graslin  to  grant  him  a 
moment's  audience. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  making  his  appearance  with 
Catherine,  "  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  promise 
me  the  chateau  farm.  Your  purpose  in  granting  me 
such  a  favor  is  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to  save  a 
little  money;  but  Catherine  has  certain  ideas  con- 
cerning our  future  which  I  wish  to  lay  before  you. 
If  I  make  my  fortune,  some  people  will  be  jealous:  a 
word  is  quickly  said,  I  may  have  disagreeable  things 
to  bear,  at  all  events  I  should  dread  them, .and  Cath- 
erine, too,  would  always  be  uneasy;  in  fact,  we  do 
not  like  the  idea  of  living  near  the  world.  So  I  have 
come  to  ask  you  to  give  us  the  land  to  farm  that  lies 
about  the  spot  where  the  Gabou  empties  on  the  com- 
mon lands,  with  a  small  part  of  the  woods  on  the 
further  side  of  the  Roche-Vive.  You  will  have  a  great 
many  men  at  work  there  in  July  or  thereabout;  so 
it  will  be  a  simple  matter  to  build  a  farm-house  in 
a  favorable  position,  on  the  high  land.  We  shall 
be  happy  there.  I  will  send  for  Guepin.  The  poor 
fellow  will  work  like  a  horse.  Perhaps  I  can  find  a 
wife  for  him.  My  boy  is  not  lazy;  no  one  will  come 


308  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

to  look  into  the  whites  of  our  eyes,  we  will  colonize 
that  little  corner,  and  I  will  make  it  my  ambition  to 
give  you  a  fine  farm  there.  I  have  a  man  to  sug- 
gest to  you  for  farmer  at  your  principal  farm, — a 
cousin  of  Catherine's,  who  has  some  money  and  will 
be  better  fitted  than  I  am  to  carry  on  such  an  exten- 
sive concern  as  that  farm.  If  God  wills  that  your 
enterprise  be  successful,  you  will  have  in  five  years 
five  to  six  thousand  cattle  or  horses  on  the  moor 
they're  clearing  up,  and  it  will  certainly  take  a 
strong  head  to  manage  affairs." 

Madame  Graslin  granted  Farrabesche's  request, 
realizing  the  good  sense  that  dictated  it. 

After  the  opening  of  the  work  on  the  plain, 
Madame  Graslin 's  life  was  as  regular  as  life  in  the 
country  commonly  is.  In  the  morning,  she  went  to 
hear  mass,  attended  to  her  son,  whom  she  idolized, 
and  went  to  overlook  her  workmen.  After  dinner, 
she  received  her  friends  from  Montegnac  in  her 
small  salon,  on  the  first  floor  of  the  clock  pavilion. 
She  taught  Roubaud,  Clousier,  and  the  cure  to  play 
whist,  which  Gerard  knew.  After  the  game,  about 
nine  o'clock,  everyone  went  home.  The  only 
events  in  that  peaceful  life  were  the  successful 
termination  of  each  part  of  the  great  enterprise.  In 
the  month  of  June,  the  Gabou  being  dry,  Monsieur 
Gerard  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  keeper's  house. 
Farrabesche's  farm-house,  by  the  Gabou,  had  al- 
ready been  built.  Fifty  masons,  brought  from  Paris, 
connected  the  two  mountains  by  a  wall  twenty  feet 
in  thickness  upon  a  foundation  of  solid  concrete 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  309 

twelve  feet  deep.  The  wall,  which  was  about  sixty 
feet  high,  gradually  sloped  from  the  base  to  the 
crown,  where  it  was  only  ten  feet  wide.  On  the  side 
toward  the  valley,  Gerard  backed  it  with  a  bank  of 
concrete  twelve  feet  thick  at  its  base.  On  the  side 
toward  the  common  lands,  a  similar  bank,  covered 
with  several  feet  of  vegetable  mould,  supported  that 
formidable  structure,  which  the  water  could  not  dis- 
turb. To  provide  against  excessive  rains,  the  engi- 
neer arranged  a  waste  weir  at  a  suitable  height.  The 
masonry  was  carried  down  to  the  tufa  or  granite  in 
each  mountain,  so  that  the  water  should  find  no 
issue  around  the  ends.  This  dam  was  finished 
toward  the  middle  of  August.  At  the  same  time, 
Gerard  built  three  canals  in  the  three  main  valleys, 
and  not  one  of  the  works  reached  the  figure  of  his 
estimates.  Thus  there  was  money  enough  to  finish 
the  chateau  farm-buildings.  The  work  of  irrigation 
in  the  plain,  carried  on  by  Fresquin,  corresponded 
with  the  canal  marked  out  by  nature  at  the  base  of 
the  mountain  chain  on  the  side  of  the  plain,  from 
which  the  irrigating  trenches  started.  Gates  were 
fitted  to  the  ditches, — which  the  plentiful  supply  of 
loose  rocks  had  made  it  possible  to  line  with  stone, 
— in  order  to  keep  the  water  in  the  plain  at  the 
proper  level. 

Every  Sunday,  after  mass,  Veronique,  the  engi- 
neer, the  cure,  the  doctor,  and  the  mayor  went 
down  by  way  of  the  park  to  watch  the  movement  of 
the  waters.  The  winter  of  1833  and  1834  was 
very  rainy.  The  water  from  the  three  streams 


310  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

which  had  been  turned  into  the  Gabou,  and  the  rain- 
water, converted  the  valley  of  the  Gabou  into  three 
ponds,  which  were  prudently  dammed  up  at  different 
levels,  in  order  to  provide  a  reserve  for  prolonged 
droughts.  At  the  points  where  the  valley  widened 
out,  Gerard  took  advantage  of  three  small  hills 
which  rose  above  the  water,  to  make  islands,  which 
were  planted  with  trees  of  different  kinds.  This 
extensive  operation  completely  changed  the  land- 
scape, but  five  or*  six  years  must  pass  before  it 
would  take  on  its  permanent  physiognomy. 

"  The  country  was  all  naked,"  said  Farrabesche, 
"  and  madame  has  clothed  it." 

After  those  great  changes,  Veronique  was  called 
Madame  throughout  the  whole  region.  When  the 
rains  ceased,  in  June,  1834,  they  tried  the  effect  of 
irrigation  in  the  part  of  the  fields  where  grain  had 
been  sown,  and  the  young  verdure  thus  nourished 
produced  a  superior  quality  of  the  marcitis  of  Italy 
and  the  Swiss  fields.  The  system  of  watering, 
modelled  upon  that  in  use  on  the  farms  of  Lom- 
bardy,  moistened  the  whole  tract  equally,  the  sur- 
face being  as  smooth  as  a  carpet.  The  nitre  in  the 
snow,  being  dissolved  in  the  water,  doubtless  con- 
tributed materially  to  the  quality  of  the  grass.  The 
engineer  hoped  to  find  in  the  crops  some  similarity 
to  those  of  Switzerland,  where  that  substance  is,  as 
is  well  known,  an  inexhaustible  source  of  fruitful- 
ness.  The  plantations  along  the  sides  of  the  roads, 
being  kept  sufficiently  moist  by  the  water  left  in  the 
ditches,  made  rapid  progress. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  311 

Thus,  in  1838,  five  years  from  the  inception  of  Ma- 
dame Graslin's  enterprise  at  Montegnac,  the  wild,  un- 
cultivated moor,  looked  upon  as  unfruitful  by  twenty 
generations,  was  green,  planted  in  every  part,  and 
productive.  Gerard  had  laid  out  five  farms  of  one 
thousand  acres  each,  in  addition  to  the  great  estab- 
lishment connected  with  the  chateau.  Gerard's 
farm,  Grossetete's,  and  Fresquin's,  which  received 
the  overflow  of  the  water  on  Madame  Graslin's  do- 
main, were  arranged  on  the  same  plan  and  managed 
by  the  same  methods.  Gerard  built  a  lovely  pa- 
vilion on  his  property.  When  everything  was 
finished,  the  inhabitants  of  Montegnac,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  mayor  himself,  who  was  overjoyed 
to  resign,  elected  Gerard  mayor  of  the  commune. 

In  1840,  the  departure  of  the  first  herd  of  cattle 
from  Montegnac  to  the  market  at  Paris  was  made 
the  occasion  of  a  rustic  fete.  The  farms  on  the 
plain  raised  cattle  and  horses,  for  they  had  found, 
on  clearing  the  land,  an  average  of  seven  inches  of 
vegetable  mould,  which  was  constantly  enriched  by 
the  annual  felling  of  trees,  by  the  manure  left  by 
the  beasts  pastured  there,  and,  above  all,  by  the 
snow-water  in  the  basin  of  the  Gabou.  In  that 
year,  Madame  Graslin  deemed  it  advisable  to  have 
a  tutor  for  her  son,  who  was  eleven  years  old;  she 
was  unwilling  to  part  with  him,  but  wished  none  the 
less  to  give  him  a  thorough  education.  Monsieur 
Bonnet  wrote  to  the  seminary.  Madame  Graslin, 
on  her  side,  mentioned  her  desire  and  her  embar- 
rassment to  Monseigneur  Dutheil,  recently  appointed 


312  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

archbishop.  The  selection  of  a  man  who  would  be 
likely  to  live  at  least  nine  years  at  the  chateau  was 
a  great  and  momentous  matter.  Gerard  had  already 
offered  to  teach  his  friend  Francis  mathematics;  but 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  take  a  tutor's  place, 
and  Madame  Graslin  was  the  more  dismayed  con- 
cerning the  selection  she  must  make,  because  she 
felt  that  her  health  was  giving  way.  The  more 
her  dear  Montegnac  increased  in  value,  the  more 
she  increased  the  'secret  austerity  of  her  life. 
Monseigneur  Dutheil,  with  whom  she  still  corre- 
sponded, found  for  her  the  man  she  desired.  He 
sent  from  his  diocese  a  young  professor,  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  named  Ruffm,  whose  vocation 
was  private  instruction;  his  knowledge  was  exten- 
sive; he  had  an  exceedingly  sensitive  heart,  which 
was  not  inconsistent  with  the  severity  essential  for 
him  who  seeks  to  guide  a  child;  in  his  case,  piety 
in  no  way  interfered  with  knowledge;  last  of  all, 
he  was  patient  and  had  an  attractive  exterior. 

"  I  am  making  you  a  gift  of  real  value,  my  dear 
daughter,"  wrote  the  archbishop,  "this  young  man 
is  worthy  to  be  entrusted  with  the  education  of  a 
prince.  I  rely  upon  you  to  assure  his  future,  for 
he  will  be  your  son's  spiritual  father." 

Monsieur  Ruffin  impressed  Madame  Graslin 's 
faithful  friends  so  favorably,  that  his  arrival  made 
no  disturbance  in  the  various  friendships  that  were 
grouped  about  that  idol,  whose  hours,  even  her 
moments,  were  sought  by  everyone  with  something 
like  jealousy. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  313 

The  year  1843  saw  the  prosperity  of  Montegnac 
increase  beyond  all  hopes.  The  farm  of  the  Gabou 
rivalled  those  of  the  plain,  and  the  chateau  farm  led 
the  way  in  all  the  improvements.  The  other  five, 
the  rent  of  which  was  to  increase  year  by  year  until 
it  reached  thirty  thousand  francs  for  each  in  the 
twelfth  year  of  the  lease,  yielded  in  1843  a  revenue 
of  sixty  thousand  francs.  The  farmers,  who  were 
beginning  to  reap  the  fruit  of  their  own  and  Ma- 
dame Graslin's  sacrifices,  were  able  to  improve  the, 
fields  on  the  plain,  where  they  raised  grass  of  the 
first  quality  which  never  feared  a  drought.  The 
farm  of  the  Gabou  joyfully  paid  an  initial  rent  of 
four  thousand  francs. 

During  that  year  a  man  from  Montegnac  estab- 
lished a  diligence  from  the  chief  town  of  the  arron- 
dissement  to  Limoges,  starting  from  both  places 
every  day.  Monsieur  Clousier's  nephew  sold  his 
clerkship  and  procured  the  creation  of  a  notarial 
office  in  his  favor.  The  government  appointed 
Fresquin  tax-collector  of  the  canton.  The  new 
notary  built  himself  a  pretty  house  in  upper 
Montegnac,  planted  mulberry-trees  on  the  land 
appurtenant  to  it,  and  became  Gerard's  deputy- 
mayor.  The  engineer  himself,  emboldened  by  such 
complete  success,  conceived  a  project  calculated  to 
make  Madame  Graslin  the  possessor  of  a  colossal 
fortune; — she  regained  possession,  in  that  year,  of 
the  securities  pledged  for  her  loan.  He  proposed 
to  turn  the  little  river  into  a  canal  and  divert  the 
surplus  water  of  the  Gabou  into  it.  That  canal, 


314  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

which  would  eventually  reach  the  Vienne,  would 
throw  into  the  market  the  whole  twenty  thousand 
acres  of  the  vast  forest  of  Montegnac,  which  was 
admirably  kept  up  by  Colorat,  but  produced  no  in- 
come, for  lack  of  means  of  transportation.  They 
could  cut  a  thousand  acres  a  year,  making  it  last 
twenty  years,  and  ship  valuable  building  timber  to 
Limoges.  That  was  the  original  idea  of  Graslin, 
who  had  paid  but  little  heed  to  the  cure's  plans 
relative  to  the  plain,  Hbut  had  given  much  more 
thought  to  making  a  canal  of  the  little  river. 


VERONIQUE  AT  THE  TOMB 

Early  in  the  following  year,  notwithstanding  Ma- 
dame Graslin's  courageous  bearing,  her  friends  de- 
tected in  her  the  premonitory  symptoms  of  impend- 
ing death.  To  all  Roubaud's  observations,  to  the 
most  adroit  questions  of  the  most  keen-sighted, 
Veronique  made  the  same  reply:  "  she  was  wonder- 
fully well."  But,  in  the  spring,  when  she  went  to 
inspect  her  forests,  her  farms,  her  lovely  fields,  she 
manifested  a  childish  joy  which  betokened  melan- 
choly previsions. 

When  he  found  himself  compelled  to  build  a  low 
wall  of  concrete  from  the  Gabou  dam  to  the  park  of 
Montegnac,  along  the  whole  length  and  at  the  base 
of  the  hill  called  La  Correze,  Gerard  had  had  the 
idea  of  enclosing  the  forest  and  uniting  it  to  the 
park.  Madame  Graslin  set  aside  thirty  thousand 
francs  a  year  for  that  work,  which  required  at  least 
seven  years,  but  which  withdrew  that  magnificent 
forest  from  the  operation  of  the  rights  exercised  by 
the  government  over  the  unenclosed  woods  of  private 
individuals.  The  three  ponds  in  the  valley  of  the 
(3i5) 


316  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Gabou  would  then  be  in  the  park.  Each  of  those 
ponds,  vaingloriously  called  lakes,  had  its  island. 
With  the  connivance  of  Grossetete,  Gerard  had 
prepared  a  surprise  for  Madame  Graslin's  birthday 
in  that  year.  He  had  built  on  the  largest  of  those 
islands,  the  second,  a  small  summer-house,  with 
a  rustic  exterior  and  perfectly  charming  within. 
The  ex-banker  had  taken  part  in  the  conspiracy,  in 
which  Farrabesche,  Clousier's  nephew,  Fresquin, 
and  the  majority  of  the  wealthy  people  of  Montegnac 
also  had  a  hand.  Grossetete  sent  a  lovely  suite  of 
furniture  for  the  house.  The  bell-tower,  copied 
from  that  at  Vevay,  produced  a  charming  effect  in 
the  landscape.  Six  boats,  two  for  each  pond,  had 
been  secretly  built,  painted,  and  rigged  during  the 
winter  by  Farrabesche  and  Guepin,  assisted  by  the 
carpenter  of  Montegnac. 

In  the  middle  of  May,  therefore,  after  the  break- 
fast which  Madame  Graslin  gave  her  friends,  she 
was  escorted  by  them  through  the  park,  beautifully 
laid  out  by  Gerard,  who  for  five  years  had  given  his 
attention  to  it  as  architect  and  as  naturalist,  toward 
the  charming  field  in  the  valley  of  the  Gabou,  where 
the  two  boats  lay,  near  the  shore  of  the  first  pond. 
That  field,  watered  by  several  limpid  streams,  had 
been  taken  from  the  base  of  the  beautiful  amphi- 
theatre at  which  the  valley  of  the  Gabou  begins. 
The  woods,  thinned  out  with  true  art  and  in  such 
way  as  to  produce  the  most  beautiful  masses  or 
vistas  pleasing  to  the  eye,  surrounded  the  field, 
imparting  to  it  an  air  of  solitude  soothing  to  the 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  317 

soul.  Gerard  had  built  upon  an  eminence  a  dupli- 
cate of  the  cottage  of  the  Valley  of  Sion,  which 
stands  by  the  side  of  the  road  to  Brieg,  and  which 
all  travellers  admire.  It  was  to  be  used  to  house  the 
cows  and  as  the  dairy  of  the  chateau.  From  the  bal- 
cony, one  could  see  the  whole  landscape  created  by 
the  engineer,  which  the  lakes  made  worthy  of  com- 
parison with  the  loveliest  spots  in  Switzerland.  It 
was  a  superb  day.  Not  a  cloud  in  the  blue  sky;  on 
the  earth  a  thousand  charming  contrasts  of  the  sort 
peculiar  to  the  beautiful  month  of  May.  The  trees 
planted  within  ten  years  on  the  borders  of  the  ponds: 
weeping  willows,  elders,  ash-trees,  Holland  white- 
wood,  poplars  from  Italy  and  Virginia,  whitethorn 
and  roses,  acacias,  birches,  choice  varieties  all,  and 
all  arranged  as  the  location  and  their  shapes  required, 
retained  amid  their  foliage  a  few  clouds  born  upon 
the  waters  and  resembling  faint  columns  of  smoke. 
The  surface  of  the  water,  clear  as  a  mirror  and 
placid  as  the  sky,  reflected  the  tall  green  masses  of 
the  forest,  whose  tree-tops,  sharply  outlined  in  the 
clear  atmosphere,  contrasted  with  the  thickets  below, 
wrapped  in  their  graceful  veils.  The  lakes,  sepa- 
rated by  strong  causeways,  displayed  three  mirrors 
with  varying  reflections,  and  their  waters  flowed 
from  one  into  another  in  melodious  cascades.  The 
causeways  formed  roads  for  going  from  side  to  side 
without  making  the  circuit  of  the  valley.  From  the 
cottage  one  could  see  through  a  vista  the  unfertile 
expanse  of  the  chalky  common  lands,  which,  seen 
from  the  lower  balcony,  resembled  the  full  sea,  and 


318  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

contrasted  strikingly  with  the  fresh  aspect  of  the 
lake  and  its  banks. 

When  Veronique  noticed  the  joy  on  the  faces  of 
her  friends  as  they  gave  her  their  hands  to  assist 
her  into  the  larger  of  the  boats,  she  had  tears  in 
her  eyes  and  let  them  fall  in  silence  until  they  ap- 
proached the  first  causeway.  As  she  walked  to  the 
top  of  it  to  embark  on  the  second  fleet,  she  spied  the 
summer-house^  and  Grossetete  sitting  on  a  bench 
with  all  his  family. 

"  Do  they  wish  to  make  me  regret  life?"  she  said 
to  the  cure. 

"We  wish  to  keep  you  from  dying,"  Clousier 
replied. 

"Life  cannot  be  restored  to  the  dead,"  she  re- 
joined. 

Monsieur  Bonnet  cast  a  stern  glance  at  his  peni- 
tent, whereat  she  withdrew  within  herself. 

"  Pray  allow  me  to  take  charge  of  your  health," 
said  Roubaud,  in  a  gentle,  imploring  voice,  "  I  am 
certain  of  my  ability  to  preserve  to  this  canton  its 
living  glory,  and  to  all  our  friends  the  tie  that  binds 
their  lives  together." 

Veronique  hung  her  head  and  Gerard  guided  the 
boat  slowly  toward  the  island  in  the  centre  of  that 
lake,  which  was  the  largest  of  the  three,  and  there 
they  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  first,  then  flowing 
over  the  dam  and  giving  a  voice  to  that  charming 
landscape. 

"  You  are  quite  right  to  arrange  for  me  to  bid  adieu 
to  this  fascinating  scene!"  she  said,  as  she  looked  at 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  319 

the  trees,  which  were  so  thickly  covered  with  leaves 
that  they  concealed  the  two  banks. 

The  only  sign  of  disapprobation  in  which  her 
friends  allowed  themselves  to  indulge  was  a  de- 
pressing silence,  and  Veronique,  at  another  glance 
from  Monsieur  Bonnet,  leaped  lightly  ashore,  assum- 
ing a  cheerful  manner,  which  she  did  not  again  lay 
aside.  Once  more  the  chatelaine,  she  was  charm- 
ing, and  the  Grossetete  family  recognized  in  her  the 
lovely  Madame  Graslin  of  the  old  days. 

"Assuredly,  you  can  still  live!"  said  her  mother, 
in  her  ear. 

On  that  beautiful  fete-day,  amid  that  sublime 
scene,  created  with  no  other  means  than  those  pro- 
vided by  nature,  nothing  seemed  calculated  to  wound 
Veronique,  and  yet  she  received  her  coup  de  grace  on 
that  occasion.  They  were  to  return  about  nine 
o'clock  by  way  of  the  fields,  where  the  roads,  as 
fine  as  English  or  Italian  roads,  were  the  engineer's 
pride.  The  abundance  of  loose  stone,  laid  aside  in 
piles  at  the  time  the  moor  was  cleared,  made  it  so 
simple  a  matter  to  keep  them  in  repair,  that  for  five 
years  they  had  been  practically  macadamized.  The 
carriages  were  waiting  at  the  outlet  of  the  last  valley 
toward  the  plain,  almost  at  the  foot  of  the  Roche- 
Vme.  The  horses,  all  bred  at  Montegnac,  were  the 
first  of  the  stock  old  enough  to  be  sold;  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  stud  had  had  ten  of  them  raised  for 
the  chateau  stables,  and  their  trial  was  a  part  of  the 
programme  of  the  celebration.  Madame  Graslin's 
caleche,  a  present  from  Grossetete,  was  drawn  by 


320  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

the  four  finest  horses,  simply  harnessed,  pawing  and 
tossing  their  heads. 

After  dinner,  the  happy  party  went  to  drink  their 
coffee  in  a  small  wooden  kiosk,  copied  from  one  of 
those  on  the  Bosporus  and  situated  on  the  point  of 
the  island  where  the  view  embraced  the  last  pond. 
Colorat's  house, — for  the  keeper,  unequal  to  duties 
as  difficult  as  those  of  head-keeper  of  Montegnac, 
had  succeeded  to  the  post  formerly  held  by  Farra- 
besche, — and  the  old  house  restored,  formed  one  of 
the  elements  of  that  landscape,  bounded  by  the  great 
Gabou  dam,  which  arrested  the  glance  at  a  lovely 
mass  of  rich  and  sturdy  vegetation. 

From  there,  Madame  Graslin  thought  that  she 
could  see  her  son  Francis  in  the  vicinity  of  the  nurs- 
ery originally  started  by  Farrabesche;  she  looked 
for  him,  but  did  not  see  him  until  Monsieur  Ruffin 
pointed  him  out  to  her  playing  on  the  shores  of 
the  pond  with  Grossete'te's  granddaughters'  children. 
Veronique  dreaded  some  accident.  Heeding  no  re- 
monstrances, she  left  the  kiosk,  leaped  into  one  of 
the  boats,  was  set  ashore  on  the  causeway,  and  ran  in 
search  of  her  son.  That  little  incident  led  to  a  gen- 
eral departure  from  the  island.  The  venerable  great- 
grandfather, Grossetete,  was  the  first  to  propose  a 
walk  along  the  lovely  path  that  skirted  the  last 
two  lakes,  following  the  caprices  of  that  moun- 
tainous soil.  Madame  Graslin,  from  a  distance, 
saw  Francis  in  the  arms  of  a  woman  dressed  in 
mourning.  Judging  from  the  shape  of  the  hat  and 
the  cut  of  the  clothes,  the  woman  was  a  foreigner. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  321 

Veronique,  in  dismay,j:alled  her  son,  who  came  to 
her. 

"  Who  is  that  woman?"  she  asked  the  other  chil- 
dren, "  and  why  did  Francis  leave  you?" 

"  That  lady  called  him  by  his  name,"  said  a  little 
girl. 

At  that  moment,  La  Sauviat  and  Gerard,  who  had 
hurried  on  in  advance  of  the  others,  came  up. 

"Who  is  that  woman,  my  dear  child?"  Madame 
Graslin  asked  Francis. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  "  but  nobody  but 
you  and  grandma  kiss  me  lil'e  that.  She  was  cry- 
ing," he  said  in  his  mother's  ear. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  run  after  her?"  asked 
Gerard. 

"No!"  said  Madame  Graslin,  with  an  abruptness 
which  was  unfamiliar  in  her  manner. 

With  a  delicacy  which  Veronique  appreciated, 
Gerard  led  the  other  children  away  and  went  to 
meet  the  rest  of  the  party,  leaving  La  Sauviat, 
Veronique,  and  Francis  alone. 

"What  did  she  say  to  you?"  La  Sauviat  asked 
her  grandson. 

"  I  don't  know,  she  didn't  speak  French." 

"  Didn't  you  understand  anything?"  said  Vero- 
nique. 

"  Oh!  yes,  she  said  several  times,  and  that's  how 
I  remembered  it:  'Dear  brother!'  " 

Veronique  grasped  her  mother's  arm  and  kept  her 
son's  hand  in  hers;  but  she  had  taken  only  a  few 
steps,  when  her  strength  abandoned  her. 

21 


322  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"What's  the  matter?  what  has  happened?"  they 
asked  La  Sauviat. 

"Oh!  my  daughter  is  in  danger!"  said  the  old 
Auvergnat,  in  a  deep,  guttural  voice. 

It  was  necessary  to  carry  Veronique  to  her  car- 
riage; she  wanted  Aline  and  Francis  to  get  in  with 
her  and  asked  Gerard  to  join  them. 

"You  have  been  in  England,  I  believe?"  she  said 
to  him  when  she  had  recovered  her  wits,  "  and  you 
know  English?  What  do  the  words  '  dear  brother ' 
mean?" 

"Does  not  everybody  know?"  cried  Gerard. 
"  That  means:  '  cher  frere.'  " 

Veronique  exchanged  a  glance  with  Aline  and  La 
Sauviat  that  made  them  shudder,  but  they  restrained 
their  emotion.  The  joyous  shouts  of  all  those  who 
witnessed  the  departure  of  the  carriages,  the  splen- 
dor of  the  sunset  over  the  level  fields,  the  perfect 
gait  of  the  horses,  the  laughter  of  her  friends  who 
followed,  the  brisk  gallop  of  those  who  accompanied 
her  on  horseback — nothing  could  arouse  Madame 
Graslin  from  her  torpor.  Her  mother  bade  the 
coachman  drive  faster,  and  their  carriage  was  the 
first  to  reach  the  chateau.  When  the  company 
had  assembled  there,  they  learned  that  Veronique 
had  locked  herself  in  her  room,  and  would  see  no 
one. 

"I  fear,"  said  Gerard  to  his  friends,  "that  Ma- 
dame Graslin  has  received  some  mortal  blow." 

"Where? — How?"  they  asked  him. 

"  In  the  heart,"  was  his  reply. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  323 

Two  days  later,  Roubaud  set  out  for  -Paris.  He 
had  found  Madame  Graslin  so  seriously  ill,  that,  in 
order  to  snatch  her  from  the  jaws  of  death,  he  went 
to  obtain  the  opinion  and  the  assistance  of  the  best 
physician  in  Paris.  But  Veronique  had  received 
Roubaud  only  to  put  an  end  to  the  importunities  of 
her  mother  and  Aline,  who  implored  her  to  take  care 
of  herself:  she  felt  that  she  was  stricken  unto  death. 
She  refused  to  see  Monsieur  Bonnet,  sending  word 
to  him  that  it  was  not  yet  time.  Although  all  her 
friends,  who  had  come  from  Limoges  for  her  birth- 
day, wished  to  remain  with  her,  she  begged  them 
to  excuse  her  for  her  failure  to  fulfil  the  duties  of 
hostess,  but  she  wished  to  remain  in  the  most  pro- 
found solitude. 

After  Roubaud's  abrupt  departure,  the  guests  at 
the  chateau  of  Montegnac  returned  to  Limoges,  less 
disappointed  than  despairing,  for  all  of  those  whom 
Grossetete  had  brought  with  him  adored  Veronique. 
They  lost  themselves  in  conjectures  as  to  what 
could  have  caused  that  mysterious  disaster. 

One  evening,  two  days  after  the  departure  of  the 
numerous  Grossetete  family,  Aline  introduced  Cath- 
erine into  Madame  Graslin's  apartment.  La  Farra- 
besche  stood  nailed  to  the  spot  at  sight  of  the  change 
that  had  so  suddenly  taken  place  in  her  mistress, 
whose  face  seemed  to  her  almost  distorted. 

" Mon  Dieu,  madame!"  she  cried,  "what  a  deal 
of  harm  that  poor  girl  did !  If  we  could  have  fore- 
seen it,  Farrabesche  and  I  would  never  have  re- 
ceived her.  She  has  just  learned  that  madame  is 


324  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

sick  and  has  sent  me  to  tell  Madame  Sauviat  that 
she  wishes  to  speak  to  her." 

"Still  here!"  cried  Veronique.  "Where  is  she 
now?" 

"  My  husband  took  her  to  the  cottage." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Madame  Graslin  ;  "leave  us 
and  tell  Farrabesche  to  go.  Tell  this  woman  that 
my  mother  will  go  to  see  her,  and  let  her  wait." 

When  it  was  dark,  Veronique,  leaning  on  her 
mother's  arm,  walked  slowly  through  the  park 
toward  the  cottage.  The  moon  was  shining  in  all 
its  splendor,  the  air  was  mild,  and  the  two  women, 
visibly  moved,  received  encouragement,  as  it  were, 
from  nature.  La  Sauviat  stopped  at  short  intervals 
to  allow  her  daughter  to  rest;  her  suffering  was  so 
intense  that  it  was  midnight  before  they  reached 
the  path  that  ran  down  from  the  woods  to  the 
sloping  field,  where  the  silvery  roof  of  the  cottage 
glistened.  The  moonlight  gave  to  the  tranquil  sur- 
face of  the  lake  the  color  of  peurl.  The  faint  noises 
of  the  night,  that  echo  so  loudly  in  the  silence, 
formed  a  soothing  harmony.  Veronique  sat  on  the 
bench  outside  the  cottage,  amid  the  lovely  spectacle 
of  that  starlit  night.  The  murmuring  of  two  voices 
and  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  of  two  persons  on  the 
sand,  still  at  some  distance,  were  brought  to  her  ears 
by  the  water,  which,  in  the  silence,  transmits  sounds 
as  faithfully  as  it  reflects  objects  in  calm  weather. 
Veronique  recognized  the  cure's  voice  by  its  exquisite 
sweetness,  also  the  rustling  of  the  cassock  and  of 
some  silk  stuff,  presumably  a  woman's  dress. 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  325 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  she  said  to  her  mother. 

La  Sauviat  and  Veronique  sat  down  on  a  manger 
in  the  lower  room,  intended  for  a  cow-barn. 

"  My  child,"  the  cure  was  saying,  "  I  do  not  re- 
proach you,  you  are  excusable;  but  you  may  be  the 
cause  of  an  irreparable  misfortune,  for  she  is  the 
soul  of  this  whole  region." 

"Oh!  monsieur,  I  will  go  away  this  very  even- 
ing," replied  the  stranger;  "  but,  I  can  say  it  to  you, 
to  leave  my  dear  province  again  will  be  my  death. 
If  I  had  remained  another  day  in  that  horrible  New 
York,  or  in  the  United  States,  where  there  is  neither 
hope  nor  faith  nor  charity,  I  should  have  died  with- 
out being  sick.  The  air  I  breathed  gave  me  a  pain 
in  my  chest,  the  food  ceased  to  nourish  me,  I  was 
dying,  although  I  seemed  full  of  life  and  health. 
My  suffering  ceased  as  soon  as  I  set  foot  on  the 
vessel.  I  thought  I  was  in  France.  Oh!  monsieur, 
I  saw  my  mother  and  one  of  my  sisters-in-law  die 
of  grief.  My  grandfather  and  grandmother  Tascheron 
are  dead,  dead,  dear  Monsieur  Bonnet,  for  all  the 
unexampled  prosperity  of  Tascheronville.  Yes,  my 
father  founded  a  village  in  the  State  of  Ohio;  that 
village  has  become  almost  a  city,  and  a  third  part 
of  the  land  included  in  it  is  tilled  by  our  family, 
for  God  has  been  good  to  us  always:  our  farming 
has  been  successful,  our  crops  are  magnificent,  and 
we  are  rich!  We  have  been  able  to  build  a  Catholic 
church;  the  town  is  Catholic,  we  do  not  allow  any 
other  form  of  worship  there,  and  we  hope  to  convert 
by  our  example  the  thousand  and  one  sects  that 


326  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

surround  us.  The  true  religion  is  in  the  minority  in 
that  land  of  money  and  selfishness,  where  souls  are 
cold.  However,  I  would  rather  return  there  to  die 
than  to  do  the  least  injury  to  our  dear  Francis's 
mother,  or  cause  her  the  slightest  pain.  Only,  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet,  pray  take  me  to  the  rectory  to-night, 
and  let  me  pray  by  his  grave,  which  is  the  only  thing 
that  attracted  me  here;, for,  as  I  approached  the  spot 
where  he  is,  I  felt  like  another  person.  No,  I  did 
not  think  I  could  be  so  happy  here!" 

"Very  well,"  said  the  cure,  "let  us  go.  If  the 
day  ever  comes  when  you  can  return  without  in- 
convenience, I  will  write  you,  Denise;  but  perhaps 
this  brief  visit  to  your  province  will  enable  you  to 
live  in  peace  over  yonder." 

"Oh!  must  I  leave  this  country,  which  is  so 
beautiful  now?  Why,  see  what  Madame  Graslin 
has  done  with  the  Gabou!"  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
lake  lying  in  the  moonlight.  "Some  time  all  this 
property  will  belong  to  our  dear  Francis — " 

"You  shall  not  go,  Denise,"  said  Madame  Gras- 
lin, appearing  at  the  door  of  the  cottage. 

Jean-Francois  Tascheron's  sister  clasped  her  hands 
at  the  sight  of  the  spectre  who  addressed  her. 
At  that  moment,  the  pallid  Veronique,  standing 
in  the  moonlight,  looked  like  a  ghost  outlined 
against  the  dark  background  of  the  interior  as  seen 
through  the  open  door.  Her  eyes  gleamed  like 
stars. 

"  No,  my  child,  you  shall  not  leave  the  country 
you  have  come  so  far  to  see,  and  .you  shall  be  happy 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  327 

here,  unless  God  should  refuse  to  second  my  work, 
and  it  is  He,  doubtless,  who  sends  you!" 

She  took  the  astonished  Denise  by  the  hand,  and 
led  her  by  a  path  to  the  other  bank  of  the  lake, 
leaving  her  mother  and  the  cure,  who  sat  down 
on  the  bench. 

"We  must  let  her  do  as  she  wishes,"  said  La 
Sauviat. 

A  few  moments  later  Veronique  returned  alone, 
and  was  taken  back  to  the  chateau  by  her  mother 
and  the  cure.  Doubtless  she  had  formed  some  plan 
which  demanded  mystery,  for  no  one  in  the  neigh- 
borhood saw  Denise  or  heard  her  name.  Madame 
Graslin  took  to  her  bed  once  more  and  did  not  leave 
it;  she  grew  worse  day  by  day,  and  seemed  vexed 
at  not  being  able  to  rise,  making  several  attempts  to ? 
walk  in  the  park,  but  always  in  vain.  But  a  few 
days  subsequent  to  this  scene,  early  in  June,  she 
made  a  superhuman  effort  one  morning,  left  her  bed, 
and  insisted  upon  dressing  and  arraying  herself  as  for 
a  festal  occasion;  she  begged  Gerard  to  give  her  his 
arm:  for  her  friends  came  every  day  to  inquire  for 
her;  and,  when  Aline  said  that  her  mistress  in- 
tended to  go  to  walk,  they  all  hurried  to  the  cha- 
teau. Madame  Graslin,  who  had  summoned  all  her 
strength,  exhausted  her  last  resources  to  take  that 
walk.  She  accomplished  her  purpose  in  a  convul- 
sive effort  of  the  will,  which  was  to  be  followed  by 
a  terrible  reaction. 

"Let  us  go  to  the  cottage,  and  alone,"  she  said 
to  Gerard,  in  a  soft  voice,  glancing  at  him  with 


328  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

a  sort  of  coquetry.  "  This  is  the  last  prank  I 
shall  play,  for  I  dreamed  last  night  that  the  doctors 
arrived." 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  your  woods?"  said  Gerard. 

"For  the  last  time,"  she  replied.  "But  I  have 
some  strange  propositions  to  make  to  you,"  she 
said,  in  an  insinuating  voice. 

She  forced  Gerard  to  embark  with  her  on  the 
second  lake,  to  which  she  went  on  foot.  When  the 
engineer,  surprised  that  she  should  undertake  such 
an  excursion,  took  up  the  oars,  she  indicated  the 
summer-house  as  their  goal. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said  to  him,  after  a  long  pause, 
during  which  she  gazed  at  the  sky,  the  water,  the 
hills,  the  shores  of  the  lake,  "  I  have  the  strangest 
request  to  make  of  you,  but  I  believe  that  you  are 
the  man  to  obey  me." 

"  In  everything,  sure  that  you  can  wish  for 
nothing  that  is  not  good,"  he  cried. 

"  I  want  you  to  marry,"  she  replied,  "  and  you  will 
thereby  gratify  the  wish  of  a  dying  woman  who  is 
certain  that  she  is  assuring  your  happiness." 

"  I  am  too  ugly!"  said  the  engineer. 

"The  person  1  have  in  mind  is  pretty,  she  is 
young,  she  wishes  to  live  at  Montegnac,  and,  if  you 
marry  her,  you  will  help  to  make  my  last  moments 
peaceful.  Let  there  be  no  question  of  her  qualities 
between  us;  I  give  her  to  you  as  a  woman  in  a 
thousand;  and,  as  the  first  sight  will  be  enough, 
so  far  as  youth  and  beauty  and  personal  charm 
are  concerned,  we  are  going  to  see  her  at  the 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  329 

summer-house.  On  our  return,  you  will  say  no  or 
yes  in  all  seriousness." 

After  this  confidence,  the  engineer  rowed  more 
rapidly,  whereat  Madame  Graslin  smiled.  Denise, 
who  lived  in  entire  seclusion  in  the  summer-house, 
recognized  Madame  Graslin,  and  made  haste  to  open 
the  door.  Veronique  and  Gerard  entered.  The  poor 
girl  could  not  restrain  a  blush  as  she  met  the  glance 
of  the  engineer,  who  was  agreeably  surprised  by 
her  beauty. 

"La  Curieux  lets  you  want  for  nothing?"  Vero- 
nique asked  her. 

"  Look,  madame,"  she  said,  pointing  to  her  break- 
fast. 

"  This  is  Monsieur  Gerard,  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned to  you,"  continued  Veronique;  "he  will  be 
my  son's  guardian,  and  after  my  death  you  will 
live  together  at  the  chateau  until  he  attains  his 
majority." 

"  Oh!  do  not  speak  so,  madame." 

"  Why,  look  at  me,  my  child  !"  she  said  to  Denise, 
detecting  instantly  the  tears  in  her  eyes. — "She 
comes  from  New  York,"  she  said  to  Gerard. 

That  was  a  means  of  breaking  the  ice  between 
the  two.  Gerard  questioned  Denise,  and  Veronique 
let  them  talk  as  she  sat  gazing  at  the  last  lake  of  the 
Gabou.  At  six  o'clock,  Gerard  and  Veronique  rowed 
back  in  their  boat  toward  the  cottage. 

"Well?"  she  said,  inquiringly,  looking  at  her 
friend. 

"  You  have  my  word." 


330  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

"Although  you  are  a  man  without  prejudices," 
she  continued,  "  you  must  not  be  left  in  ignorance  of 
the  painful  circumstances  which  compelled  that  poor 
child  to  leave  the  province,  to  which  she  has  been 
led  back  by  homesickness." 

"A  misstep?" 

"  Oh,  no!"  said  Veronique;  "if  so,  should  I  intro- 
duce her  to  you?  She  is  the  sister  of  a  mechanic 
who  died  on  the  scaffold." 

"Ah!  Tascheron,"  he  exclaimed,  "  Pere  Pingret's 
murderer!" 

"  Yes,  she  is  a  murderer's  sister!"  echoed  Madame 
Graslin,  with  cutting  irony;  "you  can  take  back 
your  word." 

She  could  not  go  on;  Gerard  was  obliged  to  carry 
her  to  the  bench  outside  the  cottage,  where  she  lay 
unconscious  for  a  few  moments.  She  found  Gerard 
on  his  knees,  and  he  said  to  her  when  she  opened 
her  eyes: 

"  I  will  marry  Denise!" 

Madame  Graslin  raised  Gerard,  took  his  head  in 
her  hands,  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead;  observ- 
ing his  amazement  at  the  warmth  of  her  gratitude, 
Veronique  pressed  his  hand  and  said: 

"You  will  soon  know  the  solution  of  this  enigma. 
Try  to  take  me  back  to  the  terrace,  where  we  shall 
find  our  friends.  It  is  very  late,  and  I  am  very  weak, 
and  yet  I  wish  to  bid  farewell  to  this  dear  plain  from 
afar!" 

Although  the  day  had  been  insufferably  hot,  the 
storms  that  ravaged  Europe  and  France  during  that 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  331 

year,  but  respected  the  Limousin,  raged  in  the  basin 
of  the  Loire,  and  the  air  was  beginning  to  grow  cool. 
The  sky  was  so  cloudless  that  the  eye  grasped  the 
slightest  details  on  the  horizon.  What  words  can 
describe  the  delightful  concert  produced  by  the 
softened  noises  of  the  village,  enlivened  by  the 
workmen  returning  from  the  fields!  That  scene,  to 
be  fittingly  reproduced,  demands  the  brush  of  one 
who  is  a  great  landscape  painter  and  a  painter  of  the 
human  face  at  the  same  time.  Is  there  not,  in  very 
truth,  a  curious  similitude,  and  difficult  to  reproduce, 
between  the  weariness  of  nature  and  that  of  man? 
The  tempered  heat  of  the  dog-days  and  the  rarefac- 
tion of  the  air  give  to  the  slightest  sounds  produced 
by  living  things  their  full  significance.  Women  sit- 
ting at  their  doors  awaiting  their  husbands,  who  fre- 
quently bring  the  children  with  them,  chatter  among 
themselves  and  work  on.  From  the  roofs  ascend 
wreaths  of  smoke  which  announce  the  preparation 
of  the  last  meal  of  the  day,  the  most  cheerful  among 
the  peasants;  after  it,  they  sleep.  The  bustle  ex- 
presses the  happy  thoughts  of  those  who  have  fin- 
ished their  day.  You  hear  singing,  certainly  of  a 
very  different  character  from  that  you  hear  in  the 
morning.  In  that  respect,  the  villagers  imitate  the 
birds,  whose  warbling  toward  evening  bears  no  re- 
semblance to  their  shrill  notes  at  dawn.  All  nature 
sings  a  hymn  to  repose,  as  it  sings  at  sunrise  a 
hymn  to  activity.  The  most  trivial  actions  of  ani- 
mate beings  seem  to  be  tinged  with  the  soft  harmoni- 
ous hues  which  the  setting  sun  casts  athwart  the 


332  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

fields,  and  which  give  a  placid  aspect  to  the  gravel 
in  the  roads.  If  anyone  should  dare  deny  the  influ- 
ence of  that  hour,  the  loveliest  of  the  day,  the  flowers 
would  put  him  to  shame,  intoxicating  him  with  their 
most  pungent  odors,  which  they  then  exhale  and 
mingle  with  the  softest  chirping  of  the  insects  and 
the  amorous  cooing  of  the  birds. 

The  trenches  that  cross  and  recross  the  plain 
beyond  the  village  were  veiled  with  delicate,  light 
vapors.  In  the  great  fields,  divided  by  the  de- 
partmental road,  at  this  time  shaded  by  poplars, 
acacias,  and  Japanese  varnish-trees,  symmetrically 
arranged  and  all  so  well  grown  that  they  already 
provided  shade,  could  be  seen  the  vast  and  celebrated 
herds  of  fat  cattle,  scattered  about  or  in  groups, 
some  chewing  the  cud,  others  still  grazing.  Men, 
women,  and  children  were  finishing  the  most  attrac- 
tive of  a  farmer's  occupations,  hay-making.  The 
evening  air,  sharpened  by  the  sudden  coolness  due 
to  the  storms,  brought  the  fragrance  of  the  new- 
mown  grass  and  the  trusses  of  hay  already  made 
up.  The  slightest  details  of  that  lovely  panorama 
could  be  distinctly  seen:  those  who,  fearing  a  storm, 
were  finishing  in  hot  haste  the  hayricks,  around 
which  the  hay-makers  were  running  with  laden 
forks,  and  those  who  were  loading  the  wagons 
among  the  trussers,  and  those  who  were  still  mow- 
ing in  the  distance,  and  the  women  who  were 
turning  the  long  lines  of  grass,  lying  like  hatched 
lines  over  the  fields,  preparatory  to  raking  them 
up,  and  those  who  were  hastily  raking  the  hay  into 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  335 

piles.  One  could  hear  the  laughter  of  those  who 
were  playing,  mingled  with  the  joyous  cries  of  the 
children  as  they  pushed  one  another  into  the  hay. 
One  could  distinguish  the  pink  or  red  or  blue  skirts, 
the  neckerchiefs,  the  bare  legs  and  arms  of  the 
women,  all  with  the  broad-brimmed  hats  of  cheap 
straw  on  their  heads,  and  the  shirts  of  the  men, 
almost  all  of  whom  wore  white  trousers.  The  last 
rays  of  the  sun  filtered  through  the  long  lines  of 
poplars  planted  along  the  ditches  that  divide  the 
plain  into  fields  of  unequal  size,  and  touched  caress- 
ingly the  groups  of  horses,  wagons,  men,  women, 
children,  and  horned  beasts.  The  drovers  and  shep- 
herdesses were  beginning  to  collect  their  flocks, 
calling  them  together  to  the  notes  of  rustic  horns. 
The  scene  was  at  once  noisy  and  silent,  a  curious 
antithesis  which  will  astonish  none  but  those  to 
whom  the  splendors  of  the  country  are  unknown. 
On  both  sides  of  the  village,  wagon-trains  of  green 
fodder  followed  one  another. 

There  was  a  something  indefinably  soothing  in  the 
spectacle.  And  so  Veronique  walked  silently  along 
between  Gerard  and  the  cure.  When,  through  a 
gap  made  by  a  country  lane  running  between  the 
houses  below  the  terrace,  the  rectory,  and  the 
church,  they  were  able  to  look  down  into  the  high 
street  of  Montegnac,  Gerard  and  Monsieur  Bonnet 
saw  that  the  eyes  of  men,  women,  and  children,  of 
all  the  different  groups,  were  turned  upon  them, 
gazing  more  particularly,  doubtless,  at  Madame 
Graslin.  How  great  affection  and  gratitude  were 


334  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

expressed  by  the  attitudes!  What  blessings  were 
showered  upon  Veronique!  With  what  reverential 
attention  were  the  glances  of  one  and  all  fixed  upon 
those  three  benefactors  of  a  whole  canton!  Thus 
man  added  a  hymn  of  gratitude  to  all  the  other  even- 
ing songs.  And,  although  Madame  Graslin's  eyes, 
as  she  walked  on,  were  fixed  upon  those  long,  mag- 
nificent carpets  of  verdure,  her  dearest  creation,  the 
priest  and  the  mayor  did  not  take  their  eyes  from 
the  groups  below,  for  it  was  impossible  to  misinter- 
pret their  expression:  grief,  melancholy,  regret  min- 
gled with  hope,  were  depicted  therein.  Everyone  at 
Montegnac  knew  that  Roubaud  had  gone  to  consult 
eminent  physicians  at  Paris,  and  that  the  bene- 
factress of  the  canton  was  drawing  near  the  end  of 
a  fatal  sickness.  At  all  the  markets  within  a  radius 
of  ten  leagues,  the  peasants  asked  those  from  Mon- 
tegnac: "  How  is  your  bourgeoise?"  Thus  the 
solemn  thought  of  death  was  hovering  over  those 
fields,  in  the  midst  of  that  rustic  tableau.  Far  off  in 
the  hayfield,  more  than  one  mower  as  he  sharpened 
his  scythe,  more  than  one  young  girl  resting  her 
arm  on  her  fork,  more  than  one  farmer  from  the 
top  of  his  hayrick,  when  they  saw  Madame  Graslin, 
stood  pensively  gazing  at  that  noble  woman,  the 
glory  of  La  Correze,  eagerly  seeking  something 
upon  which  to  base  a  favorable  augury,  or  looking 
simply  to  admire,  impelled  by  a  sentiment  stronger 
than  the  inclination  to  work.  "She  is  taking  a 
walk,  so  she  must  be  better!"  That  simple  phrase 
was  on  every  lip. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  335 

Madame  Graslin's  mother,  sitting  on  the  cast- 
iron  bench  which  Veronique  had  had  placed  at  the 
end  of  the  terrace,  at  the  corner  from  which  the 
cemetery  could  be  seen  through  the  balustrade, 
studied  her  daughter's  movements  and  watched  her 
closely  as  she  walked,  and  the  tears  gathered  in 
her  eyes.  Accustomed  as  she  was  to  the  exertions  of 
that  superhuman  courage,  she  knew  that  Veronique 
at  that  moment  was  already  suffering  the  pangs 
of  a  horrible  death-agony,  and  kept  herself  upon 
her  feet  by  a  heroic  effort  of  her  will.  Those 
tears,  almost  red,  which  rolled  down  over  that 
septuagenarian  face,  tanned  and  wrinkled,  whose 
parchment-like  surface  seemed  unlikely  to  soften 
under  any  emotion,  aroused  the  tears  of  young 
Graslin,  who  was  standing  between  Monsieur  Ruf- 
fm's  legs. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  child?"  said  the  tutor, 
quickly. 

"  My  grandma  is  crying,"  he  replied. 

Monsieur  Ruffin,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Ma- 
dame Graslin  as  she  came  toward  them,  looked  at 
Mere  Sauviat  and  was  deeply  touched  at  the  sight  of 
that  old  Roman  matron's  face,  petrified  by  grief  and 
wet  with  tears. 

"Why  did  you  not  prevent  her  going  out,  ma- 
dame?"  said  the  tutor  to  the  old  woman,  whose 
mute  grief  made  her  august  and  sacred. 

While  Veronique  came  forward  with  majestic, 
wonderfully  graceful  carriage,  La  Sauviat,  impelled 
by  despair  at  the  thought  of  surviving  her  daughter, 


336  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

disclosed  the  secret  of  many  things  that  aroused 
curiosity. 

"  To  think,"  she  exclaimed,  "  of  walking,  when 
one  wears  a  hair-cloth  vest  that  punctures  the  skin 
at  every  step!" 

That  exclamation  appalled  the  young  man,  who 
had  not  failed  to  notice  the  exquisite  grace  of 
Veronique's  movements,  and  who  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  the  terrible,  constant  domination  that 
the  mind  must  have  acquired  over  the  body.  The 
Parisian  woman  most  renowned  for  ease  of  car- 
riage, for  her  figure  and  gait,  would  have  been 
outdone  by  Veronique  at  that  moment. 

"  She  has  worn  it  thirteen  years,  she  put  it  on 
after  she  finished  nursing  her  boy,"  said  the  old 
woman,  pointing  to  Francis.  "She  has  done  mira- 
cles here;  but,  if  her  life  were  known,  she  might 
well  be  canonized.  Since  she  has  been  here,  no 
one  has  ever  seen  her  eat:  do  you  know  why? 
Three  times  a  day  Aline  carries  her  a  piece  of  dry 
bread  on  a  large  plate  covered  with  ashes,  and  a  few 
beans  cooked  in  water,  without  salt,  on  a  plate  of 
red  earthenware,  like  those  used  to  give  dogs  their 
food!  Yes,  that  is  how  the  woman  who  has  given 
life  to  this  canton  lives. — She  prays,  kneeling  on 
the  edge  of  her  hair-cloth.  If  it  weren't  for  those 
austerities,  she  says,  she  never  could  have  the 
pleasant  smile  on  her  face  that  you  have  seen 
there.  I  tell  you  this,"  continued  the  old  woman, 
in  an  undertone,  "so  that  you  can  tell  the  doctor 
Monsieur  Roubaud  is  going  to  bring  down  from 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  337 

Paris.  If  they  prevent  my  daughter  from  going  on 
with  her  penances,  perhaps  they  might  yet  save 
her,  although  the  hand  of  death  is  already  on  her 
head.  Look  at  her!  Ah!  I  must  be  very  strong  to 
have  been  able  to  endure  all  these  things  fifteen 
years!" 

The  old  woman  took  her  grandson's  hand  and 
passed  it  over  her  forehead  and  her  cheeks,  as  if 
that  tiny  hand  spread  a  refreshing  balm;  then  she 
imprinted  a  kiss  upon  it,  overflowing  with  the  affec- 
tion of  which  the  secret  belongs  to  grandmothers  as 
well  as  to  mothers. 

Meanwhile,  Veronique  had  arrived  within  a  few 
steps  of  the  bench,  accompanied  by  Clousier,  the 
cure,  and  Gerard.  In  the  mellow  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun  she  shone  resplendent  with  a  ghastly  beauty. 
Her  yellow  forehead,  furrowed  by  long  wrinkles 
piled  upon  one  another  like  clouds,  revealed  one 
fixed  thought  amid  all  her  inward  troubles.  Her 
face,  absolutely  devoid  of  color,  white  with  the  dead, 
sallow  whiteness  of  plants  that  have  no  sun,  pre- 
sented a  contour  that  was  thin  without  being  sharp, 
and  bore  traces  of  the  terrible  physical  pain  produced 
by  mental  suffering.  She  combated  the  mind  with 
the  body,  and  vice  -versa.  She  was  such  an  utter 
wreck  that  she  resembled  her  former  self  only  as  an 
aged  woman  resembles  her  portrait  as  a  girl.  The 
ardent  gleam  of  her  eyes  betrayed  the  despotic  em- 
pire exerted  by  a  Christian  will  over  the  body,  re- 
duced to  what  religion  wishes  it  to  be.  In  that 
woman  the  mind  drew  the  flesh  in  its  train,  as  the 

22 


338  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Achilles  of  profane  poetry  drew  Hector  around  the 
walls  of  Troy;  it  dragged  it  triumphantly  over  the 
stony  pathways  of  life,  it  had  forced  it  to  wander 
for  fifteen  years  around  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
where  it  hoped  to  be  admitted,  not  by  fraud,  but 
amid  triumphant  acclamations.  Never  was  one  of 
the  anchorites  who  lived  in  the  dry  and  barren  Afri- 
can deserts  more  completely  master  of  his  passions, 
than  was  Veronique  in  that  superb  chateau,  in  the 
heart  of  that  fertile  country,  with  its  placid,  vo- 
luptuous landscapes,  beneath  the  protecting  mantle 
of  that  vast  forest,  whence  science,  the  inheritor  of 
Moses'  staff,  had  caused  abundance,  prosperity,  and 
happiness  for  a  whole  canton  to  gush  forth.  She 
contemplated  the  results  of  twelve  years  of  pa- 
tience— a  work  which  would  have  been  the  pride 
of  a  man  of  superior  talents — with  the  gentle 
modesty  which  Pontormo's  pencil  gave  to  the 
face  of  his  Christian  Purity  Caressing  the  Divine 
Unicorn.  The  devout  chatelaine,  whose  silent  mood 
was  respected  by  her  two  companions  when  they 
saw  that  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  vast  plain, 
once  sterile,  now  fruitful,  walked  with  her  arms 
folded  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  road  where  it  met 
the  horizon. 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  within  two  steps  of  her 
mother,  who  gazed  at  her  as  the  Mother  of  Christ 
must  have  gazed  at  her  Son  on  the  cross;  she 
raised  her  hand  and  pointed  to  the  junction  of  the 
Montegnac  road  and  the  main  highway. 

"Do  you  see,"  she  said,  with   a  smile,  "that 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  339 

caleche,  drawn  by  four  post-horses?  That  is  Mon- 
sieur Roubaud  returning.  We  shall  soon  know  how 
many  hours  1  have  to  live." 

"  Hours!"  said  Gerard. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  was  taking  my  last 
walk?"  she  rejoined.  "  Did  I  not  come  here  to  look 
for  the  last  time  at  this  lovely  scene  in  all  its 
splendor?" 

She  pointed  to  the  village,  where  the  entire  popu- 
lation was  assembled  at  that  moment  on  the  square 
in  front  of  the  church;  then  to  the  beautiful  fields, 
illumined  by  the  sun's  last  rays. 

"Ah!"  she  continued,  "let  me  see  God's  blessing 
in  the  peculiar  atmospheric  condition  to  which  we 
owe  the  preservation  of  our  crops.  All  about  us, 
tempests,  rain,  hail,  lightning,  have  smitten  without 
respite  or  mercy.  The  people  think  so;  why  should 
not  I  think  as  they  do?  I  feel  so  strongly  the  need 
of  finding  in  this  a  good  omen  of  what  awaits  me 
when  my  eyes  are  closed!" 

The  child  rose,  took  his  mother's  hand,  and  placed 
it  upon  his  head.  Veronique,  deeply  touched  by 
that  eloquent  gesture,  seized  her  son,  and,  with 
superhuman  strength,  lifted  him,  placed  him  on  her 
left  arm  as  if  he  were  still  at  the  breast,  kissed  him, 
and  said: 

"Do  you  see  all  this  land,  my  son?  When  you 
are  a  man,  continue  your  mother's  work." 

"There  are  a  very  few  strong  and  highly-priv- 
ileged beings  who  are  permitted  to  contemplate 
death  face  to  face,  to  fight  a  long  duel  with  it,  and 


340  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

to  display  a  courage  and  address  that  compel  our 
admiration;  you  afford  us  that  awe-inspiring  specta- 
cle, madame,"  said  the  cure,  in  a  grave  voice;  "  but 
perhaps  you  lack  pity  for  us:  allow  us  at  least  to 
hope  that  you  are  mistaken,  and  that  God  will 
permit  you  to  finish  all  that  you  have  begun." 

"  I  have  done  nothing  except  with  your  assist- 
ance, my  friends,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  able  to 
be  of  use  to  you,  but  I  am  so  no  longer.  Everything 
is  green  about  us;  there  is  no  desolation  anywhere 
save  in  my  heart.  As  you  know,  my  dear  cure,  I 
can  find  peace  and  pardon  nowhere  but  there." 

She  put  out  her  hand  toward  the  cemetery.  She 
had  not  said  as  much  about  it  since  the  day  of  her 
arrival,  when  she  had  swooned  at  that  spot.  The 
cure  looked  at  his  penitent,  and  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed so  long  to  read  her  mind,  that  he  saw  that  in 
those  simple  words  of  his  he  had  won  a  new  tri- 
umph. Veronique  must  have  been  moved  beyond 
measure,  to  break  her  silence,  after  twelve  years, 
with  a  sentence  which  said  so  much.  So  the  cure 
clasped  his  hands  with  a  gesture  that  he  often  used, 
instinct  with  religious  fervor,  and  glanced,  in  pro- 
found emotion,  at  the  group  formed  by  that  family, 
all  of  whose  secrets  had  passed  into  his  heart. 
Gerard,  to  whom  the  words  peace  and  pardon  must 
have  seemed  most  strange,  was  speechless  with 
amazement.  Monsieur  Ruffin,  his  eyes  fastened  on 
Veronique,  was  like  one  stupefied. 

At  that  moment,  the  caleche  was  rapidly  ap- 
proaching them,  passing  tree  after  tree. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  341 

"There  are  five  of  them!"  said  the  cure,  who 
stood  where  he  could  see  and  count  the  travellers. 

"  Five!"  cried  Monsieur  Gerard.  "  Will  five  know 
any  more  than  two?" 

"Ah!"  muttered  Madame  Graslin,  who  was  lean- 
ing on  the  cure's  arm,  "the  procureur-general  is 
there!  Why  has  he  come  here?" 

"  And  Papa  Grossetete,  too!"  cried  Francis. 

"Madame,"  said  the  cure,  who  was  supporting 
Madame  Graslin,  leading  her  a  few  steps  away, 
"  have  courage,  and  be  worthy  of  yourself  !" 

"  What  does  he  want?"  she  replied,  leaning  over 
the  balustrade.—"  Mother!" 

Old  La  Sauviat  ran  to  her  with  an  agility  that 
belied  her  years. 

"  I  shall  see  him  again!"  said  Veronique. 

"If  he  comes  with  Monsieur  Grossetete,"  replied 
the  cure,  "doubtless  his  intentions  are  good." 

"Ah!  monsieur,  my  daughter  is  dying!"  cried  La 
Sauviat,  watching  the  effect  of  those  words  on 
Madame  Graslin's  face.  "  Can  her  heart  endure 
such  painful  emotions?  Until  now,  Monsieur  Grosse- 
t£te  has  kept  that  man  from  seeing  Veronique." 

Madame  Graslin's  face  was  on  fire. 

"  Do  you  hate  him  so  bitterly?"  Monsieur  Bonnet 
asked  his  penitent. 

"  She  left  Limoges  in  order  not  to  let  all  Limoges 
into  her  secrets,"  said  La  Sauviat,  dismayed  by  the 
rapid  change  that  was  taking  place  in  Madame  Gras- 
lin's already  distorted  features. 

"  Don't  you   see   that  he   will  poison  my  few 


342  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

remaining  hours,  during  which  I  ought  to  think  of 
nothing  but  Heaven?  He  nails  me  to  the  earth," 
cried  Veronique. 

The  cure  took  her  arm  once  more,  and  compelled 
her  to  walk  a  few  steps  with  him;  when  they  were 
alone,  he  bestowed  upon  her  one  of  those  angelic 
glances  by  which  he  soothed  the  most  violent  im- 
pulses of  the  heart. 

"  If  that  is  so,"  he  said,  "  as  your  confessor,  I  bid 
you  to  receive  him,  to  be  kind  and  affectionate  to 
him,  to  lay  aside  this  vestment  of  wrath,  and  to 
forgive  him  as  God  will  forgive  you.  So  there  is 
still  a  remnant  of  passion  in  this  heart  which  I 
thought  purified.  Burn  this  last  grain  of  incense  on 
the  altar  of  repentance,  else  everything  about  you 
will  be  a  falsehood." 

"  There  was  still  that  last  effort  to  be  made,  and 
it  is  made,"  she  replied,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  The 
devil  still  occupied  that  last  fold  of  my  heart,  and 
doubtless  God  suggested  to  Monsieur  de  Gran- 
ville  the  thought  that  brings  him  here. — How  many 
more  times  will  God  smite  me?"  she  cried. 

She  paused,  as  if  to  offer  up  a  silent  prayer;  she 
went  back  to  La  Sauviat,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"  My  dear  mother,  be  kind  and  amiable  to  mon- 
sieur le  procureur-general." 

The  old  Auvergnat  shuddered  as  if  with  the  fever. 

"  There  is  no  more  hope,"  she  said,  seizing  the 
cure's  hand. 

At  that  moment,  the  caleche,  announced  by  the 
postilion's  whip,  was  ascending  the  hill;  the  gate 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  343 

was  thrown  open,  the  carriage  entered  the  court- 
yard, and  the  travellers  at  once  came  out  on  the 
terrace.  There  were  the  illustrious  Archbishop 
Dutheil,  who  had  come  to  consecrate  Monseigneur 
Gabriel  de  Rastignac;  the  procureur-general,  Mon- 
sieur Grossete"te,  and  Monsieur  Roubaud,  on  whose 
arm  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  physicians  in 
Paris,  Horace  Bianchon. 

"  Welcome,"  said  Veronique  to  her  guests. — "And 
you,  above  all,"  she  said,  offering  her  hand  to  the 
procureur-general,  and  pressing  his  warmly. 

The  amazement  of  Monsieur  Grossetete,  the  arch- 
bishop, and  La  Sauviat  was  so  great,  that  it  carried 
the  day  over  the  profound  acquired  discretion  which 
distinguishes  the  old.  They  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  relied  upon  Monseigneur's  intervention,  and 
that  of  my  friend,  Monsieur  Grossetete,"  replied 
Monsieur  de  Granville,  "to  obtain  a  favorable  re- 
ception from  you.  It  would  have  been  a  lifelong 
grief  to  me  not  to  have  seen  you  again." 

"  I  thank  him  who  brought  you  here,"  she  re- 
plied, looking  at  the  Comte  de  Granville  for  the 
first  time  in  fifteen  years.  "  I  have  borne  you  much 
ill-will  for  a  long  while;  but  I  have  recognized  the 
injustice  of  my  feelings  toward  you,  and  you  shall 
know  why,  if  you  will  remain  at  Montegnac  until 
the  day  after  to-morrow. — Monsieur,"  she  said, 
turning  to  Horace  Bianchon,  and  saluting  him,  "will 
confirm  my  apprehensions,  I  doubt  not. — It  was  God 
who  sent  you,  monseigneur,"  she  added,  bowing 
before  the  archbishop.  "You  will  not  refuse,  in 


344  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

memory  of  our  old  friendship,  to  assist  me  in  my 
last  moments?  What  a  privilege  to  me  to  have 
about  me  the  beings  who  have  loved  me  and  sus- 
tained me  throughout  my  life!" 

At  the  word  laved,  she  turned  with  a  gracious 
smile  to  Monsieur  de  Granville,  who  was  affected  to 
tears  by  that  mark  of  affection.  The  most  profound 
silence  ensued.  The  two  physicians  glanced  at  each 
other  as  if  to  ask  by  what  magical  power  that 
woman  stood  erect,  suffering  what  she  must  suffer. 
The  other  three  were  so  terrified  by  the  alteration 
her  sickness  had  produced  in  her,  that  they  ex- 
changed their  thoughts  only  with  their  eyes. 

"  Permit  me  to  go  with  these  gentlemen,"  she 
said,  with  her  usual  charm  of  manner,  "it  is  an 
urgent  matter." 

She  saluted  all  her  guests,  took  an  arm  of  each 
physician,  and  walked  toward  the  chateau  at  a  slow 
and  painful  gait  that  foreboded  an  impending  catas- 
trophe. 

"  Monsieur  Bonnet,"  said  the  archbishop  to  the 
cure,  "you  have  performed  miracles!" 

"  Not  I,  but  God,  monseigneur,"  he  replied. 

"  They  said  she  was  dying,"  cried  Monsieur 
Grossetete,  "but  she  is  dead!  there  is  nothing  left 
but  a  mind." 

"A  soul,"  said  Monsieur  Gerard. 

"She  is  still  the  same!"  cried  the  procureur- 
general. 

"She  is  a  stoic  after  the  manner  of  the  philoso- 
phers of  the  Portico,"  said  the  tutor. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  345 

They  all  walked  in  silence  along  the  balustrade, 
looking  at  the  landscape,  over  which  the  flames  of 
the  setting  sun  cast  the  most  beautiful  bright  red 
beams. 

"  To  me,  who  saw  this  country  thirteen  years 
ago,"  said  the  archbishop,  pointing  to  the  fertile 
plains,  the  valley,  and  the  mountain  of  Montegnac, 
"  this  miracle  is  as  extraordinary  as  the  other  I  have 
just  witnessed:  for  how  is  it  that  you  allow  Madame 
Graslin  to  be  up?  she  should  be  in  bed." 

"So  she  was,"  said  La  Sauviat.  "After  ten 
days,  during  which  she  did  not  once  leave  her  bed, 
she  insisted  on  getting  up  to  see  the  country  for  the 
last  time." 

"  I  can  understand  that  she  wished  to  bid  adieu  to 
her  own  creation,"  said  Monsieur  de  Granville,  "  but 
she  ran  the  risk  of  dying  on  this  terrace." 

Monsieur  Roubaud  advised  us  not  to  contradict 
her,"  said  La  Sauviat. 

"What  a  prodigy!"  cried  the  archbishop,  whose 
eyes  did  not  tire  of  wandering  over  the  landscape. 
"She  has  made  the  desert  bring  forth  fruit! — But 
we  know,  monsieur,"  he  added,  looking  at  Gerard, 
"that  your  knowledge  and  your  labors  have  had 
much  to  do  with  it." 

"We  have  been  only  her  workmen,"  replied 
the  mayor;  "  yes,  we  are  only  hands,  she  is  the 
thought!" 

La  Sauviat  left  the  group  to  go  to  learn  the  decision 
of  the  physician  from  Paris. 

"  It  will  require  heroism  on  our  part,"  said  the 


346  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

procureur-general  to  the  archbishop  and  the  cure, 
"to  witness  her  death." 

"True,"  said  Monsieur  Grossetete,  "but  we 
must  be  willing  to  do  great  things  for  such  a  friend." 

After  they  had  walked  back  and  forth  several 
times,  all  absorbed  in  the  gravest  thoughts,  they 
saw  two  of  Madame  Graslin's  farmers  coming  toward 
them;  they  said  that  they  were  sent  by  the  whole 
village  to  express  their  painful  anxiety  to  know  the 
verdict  of  the  doctor  from  Paris. 

"  They  are  in  consultation,  and  we  know  nothing 
as  yet,  my  friends,"  the  archbishop  replied. 

At  that  moment,  Monsieur  Roubaud  came  running 
toward  them,  and  his  hurried  gait  made  them  all 
quicken  theirs. 

"Well?"  said  the  mayor. 

"She  has  not  forty-eight  hours  to  live!"  replied 
Monsieur  Roubaud.  "  In  my  absence  the  disease 
has  reached  its  fullest  development.  Monsieur  Bian- 
chon  cannot  understand  how  she  can  walk.  Such 
rare  phenomena  as  that  are  always  due  to  intense 
excitement. — So,  messieurs,"  he  said  to  the  arch- 
bishop and  the  cure,  "she  belongs  to  you;  science 
is  of  no  avail,  and  my  illustrious  confrere  is  of  the 
opinion  that  you  have  hardly  time  for  your  cere- 
monies." 

"Let  us  go  and  say  the  forty  hours'  prayers," 
said  the  cure  to  his  parishioners,  preparing  to  with- 
draw. "  His  Grace  will,  doubtless,  deign  to  admin- 
ister the  last  sacraments?" 

The  archbishop  bowed;  he  could  not  speak,  his  eyes 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  347 

were  filled  with  tears.  They  all  sat  down,  resting 
their  elbows  on  the  balustrade,  and  abandoned  them- 
selves to  their  thoughts.  The  church-bells  tolled 
sadly.  Thereupon  they  heard  the  footsteps  of  the 
whole  population  flocking  to  the  porch.  The  rays 
of  the  candles  shone  through  the  trees  in  Monsieur 
Bonnet's  garden,  the  chants  arose.  Over  all  the 
country-side  naught  was  to  be  seen  save  the  reddish 
gleams  of  the  twilight;  all  the  birds  had  ceased  their 
singing;  only  the  tree-toad  uttered  his  long,  clear, 
melancholy  note. 

"  Let  us  go  and  do  our  duty,"  said  the  arch- 
bishop, walking  slowly  and  as  if  overwhelmed  by 
grief. 

The  consultation  was  held  in  the  large  salon  of 
the  chateau.  That  enormous  apartment  communi- 
cated with  a  state  bedroom  furnished  in  red  damask, 
where  the  ostentatious  Graslin  had  displayed  the 
proverbial  magnificence  of  financiers.  Veronique 
had  not  entered  the  room  six  times  in  fourteen 
years,  the  great  apartments  were  utterly  useless  to 
her,  for  she  never  received  there;  but  the  effort  she 
had  made  to  fulfil  her  last  obligation  and  to  subdue 
her  last  revolt  had  taken  away  her  strength,  she 
could  not  go  up  to  her  own  room.  When  the  illus- 
trious physician  had  taken  the  sick  woman's  hand 
and  felt  her  pulse,  he  glanced  at  Monsieur  Roubaud 
and  made  a  sign;  together  they  lifted  her  and  carried 
her  to  the  bed  in  that  room.  Aline  quickly  opened 
the  doors.  Like  all  beds  kept  for  purposes  of  show, 
that  bed  had  no  sheets;  the  doctors  laid  Madame 


348  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

Graslin  on  the  red  damask  coverlid  and  stretched 
her  out  there.  Roubaud  opened  the  windows,  pushed 
up  the  blinds,  and  called.  The  servants  and  old 
La  Sauviat  ran  at  his  call.  They  lighted  the  yellow 
candles  in  the  candelabra. 

"  It  is  written,"  cried  the  dying  woman,  smiling, 
"that  my  death  shall  be  what  death  should  be  to 
every  Christian  soul:  a  fete!" 

During  the  consultation,  she  said: 

"  Monsieur  le  procureur-general  did  his  duty,  I 
went  away,  he  drove  me  to  it — " 

The  old  mother  looked  at  her  daughter  and  placed 
her  finger  on  her  lips. 

"  I  will  speak,  mother,"  replied  Veronique.  "The 
finger  of  God  is  in  all  this,  I  tell  you!  I  am  going  to 
die  in  a  red  chamber." 

La  Sauviat  left  the  room,  terrified  by  her  words. 

"Aline,"  she  said,  "she  is  speaking!  she  is 
speaking!" 

"Ah!  madame  is  out  of  her  senses,"  cried  the 
faithful  servant,  who  was  bringing  the  sheets.  "  Go 
and  find  monsieur  le  cure,  madame." 

"  You  must  undress  your  mistress,"  said  Bianchon 
to  the  maid,  when  she  entered  the  room. 

"That  will  be  very  difficult,  for  madame  wears  a 
hair-cloth  vest." 

"What!  such  horrible  things  are  still  done  in 
the  nineteenth  century?"  cried  the  great  doctor. 

"  Madame  Graslin  has  never  allowed  me  to  touch 
her  stomach,"  said  Monsieur  Roubaud.  "  I  have  had 
no  opportunity  to  find  out  anything  concerning  her 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  349 

disease,  except  by  the  condition  of  her  face,  by  her 
pulse,  and  by  such  information  as  I  obtained  from 
her  mother  and  her  maid." 

They  had  placed  Veronique  on  a  couch  while  they 
were  preparing  the  state  bed  that  stood  at  the  end  of 
uie  room.  The  doctors  talked  together  in  under- 
tones. La  Sauviat  and  Aline  made  the  bed.  The 
faces  of  the  two  Auvergnats  were  ghastly  to  look 
upon;  their  hearts  were  torn  by  the  thought: 
"We  are  making  her  bed  for  the  last  time,  she 
will  die  here!" 

The  consultation  was  not  long.  First  of  all, 
Bianchon  peremptorily  ordered  Aline  and  La  Sauviat 
to  cut  off  the  hair-cloth  vest  and  put  on  a  chemise, 
despite  the  patient's  remonstrances.  During  that 
operation  the  two  doctors  went  into  the  salon.  When 
Aline  passed  through,  carrying  that  terrible  instru- 
ment of  penance  in  a  napkin,  she  said  to  them: 

"  Madame's  body  is  nothing  but  one  great  sore!" 

The  doctors  returned  to  the  bedroom. 

"Your  will  is  stronger  than  Napoleon's,  ma- 
dame,"  said  Bianchon,  after  various  questions, 
which  Veronique  answered  clearly :  "  you  retain 
your  mind  and  your  faculties  in  the  last  stage  of 
the  disease  in  which  the  Emperor  lost  his  marvel- 
lous intelligence.  From  what  I  know  of  you,  I  think 
it  best  to  tell  you  the  truth." 

"On  my  knees  I  beg  you  to  do  so,"  she  said; 
"  you  have  the  power  to  mete  out  to  me  what  little 
strength  I  still  have,  and  I  need  all  my  life  for  a  few 
hours." 


350  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

"Think  now  of  your  salvation,  nothing  else," 
said  Bianchon. 

"  If  God  does  me  the  favor  to  allow  me  to  die 
utterly,"  she  replied,  with  a  celestial  smile,  "pray 
believe  that  that  favor  will  be  useful  to  the  glory  of 
His  Church.  My  presence  of  mind  is  necessary  to 
carry  out  a  thought  suggested  by  God,  whereas 
Napoleon  had  accomplished  his  whole  destiny." 

The  two  physicians  stared  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment, when  they  heard  her  utter  those  words  as 
easily  as  if  she  were  in  her  own  salon. 

"Ah!  there  is  the  doctor  who  will  cure  me,"  she 
said,  as  she  saw  the  archbishop  enter. 

She  put  forth  all  her  strength  to  sit  up  in  bed,  to 
bow  graciously  to  Monsieur  Bianchon  and  beg  him 
to  accept  something  besides  money  for  the  good  news 
he  had  given  her;  she  whispered  a  few  words  to  her 
mother,  who  led  the  doctor  away;  then  she  asked 
the  archbishop  to  excuse  her  until  the  cure  should 
come,  and  manifested  a  desire  to  take  a  little  rest. 
Aline  sat  up  with  her  mistress.  At  midnight,  Ma- 
dame Graslin  woke  and  asked  for  the  archbishop  and 
the  cure,  and  her  maid  pointed  to  them  where  they 
knelt  praying  for  her.  She  made  a  sign  to  her 
mother  and  the  servant  to  leave  the  room,  and  at 
a  second  sign  the  two  priests  came  to  her  pillow. 

"  Monseigneur,  and  you,  monsieur  le  cure,  I  have 
nothing  to  tell  that  you  do  not  know.  You  were  the 
first,  monseigneur,  to  cast  your  eye  into  my  con- 
science, you  read  my  whole  past  there,  and  what 
you  saw  was  enough  for  you.  My  confessor,  this 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  351 

angel  whom  God  placed  by  my  side,  knows  some- 
thing more:  I  have  confessed  everything  to  him.  I 
wish  to  consult  you,  whose  minds  are  illumined  by 
the  spirit  of  the  Church,  as  to  the  manner  in  which, 
as  a  true  Christian,  I  should  leave  this  earth.  Do 
you  think,  austere  and  holy  men  that  you  are,  that, 
if  Heaven  deigns  to  forgive  the  most  perfect,  the 
most  profound  repentance  that  ever  stirred  a  human 
soul,  do  you  think  that  I  have  fulfilled  all  my  duties 
here  on  earth?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  archbishop,  "  yes,  my  daughter." 
"  No,  father,  no,"  she  said,  raising  herself  to  a 
sitting  posture,  while  her  eyes  gleamed  brightly. 
"A  few  steps  from  here  there  is  a  grave  in  which 
lies  the  body  of  an  unfortunate  man  who  bears  the 
weight  of  a  horrible  crime;  in  this  sumptuous  abode 
there  is  a  woman  crowned  with  a  high  reputation  for 
benevolence  and  virtue.  People  bless  that  woman; 
that  poor  young  man  is  cursed!  The  criminal  is 
crushed  with  general  reprobation,  I  enjoy  general 
esteem;  I  am  mainly  responsible  for  the  crime,  he  is 
largely  responsible  for  the  well-doing  which  has 
earned  for  me  so  much  renown  and  gratitude;  cul- 
prit that  I  am,  I  have  the  credit;  he,  a  martyr  to  his 
silence,  is  covered  with  shame!  I  shall  die  in  a  few 
hours,  knowing  that  a  whole  canton  weeps  for  me, 
that  a  whole  department  extols  my  benefactions,  my 
piety,  my  virtues;  whereas  he  died  amid  insults, 
before  the  eyes  of  a  whole  population  that  thronged 
to  the  spot  impelled  by  detestation  of  murderers! 
You,  my  judges,  are  indulgent;  but  I  hear  a  voice 


352  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

within  me,  an  imperious  voice  that  leaves  me  no 
rest.  Ah!  God's  hand,  less  gentle  than  yours,  has 
smitten  me  from  day  to  day,  as  if  to  warn  me  that 
my  atonement  was  not  complete.  My  faults  can  be 
redeemed  only  by  a  public  confession.  He  is  happy! 
Culpable,  he  gave  up  his  life  with  ignominy  in  the 
face  of  Heaven  and  earth.  And  I,  I  am  still  deceiving 
society  as  I  deceived  the  laws  of  mankind.  I  have 
not  received  one  word  of  homage  that  has  not  been 
an  insult  to  me,  not  a  word  of  praise  that  has  not 
burned  my  heart.  Do  you  not  see,  in  the  coming  of 
the  procureur-general,  a  command  from  Heaven  in 
accord  with  the  voice  that  cries  out  to  me:  'Con- 
fess!' " 

The  two  priests,  the  prince  of  the  Church  and  the 
humble  cure,  those  two  great  lights,  kept  their  eyes 
on  the  ground  and  did  not  speak.  Too  deeply  moved 
by  the  grandeur  and  the  resignation  of  the  culprit, 
the  judges  were  unable  to  pronounce  sentence. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  archbishop,  after  a  time, 
raising  his  fine  head,  wasted  by  the  austere  habits 
of  his  devout  life,  "you  go  beyond  the  command- 
ments of  the  Church.  It  is  the  Church's  glory  to 
make  its  dogmas  harmonize  with  the  manners  of 
every  epoch,  for  the  Church  is  destined  to  traverse 
centuries  of  centuries  in  company  with  mankind. 
Secret  confession  has,  according  to  its  decisions, 
taken  the  place  of  public  confession.  That  substi- 
tution makes  the  new  law.  The  suffering  you  have 
endured  is  sufficient.  Die  in  peace:  God  has  heard 
you." 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  353 

"  But  is  not  the  wish  of  the  criminal  in  conformity 
with  the  laws  of  the  early  Church,  which  enriched 
Heaven  with  as  many  saints  and  martyrs  and  con- 
fessors as  there  are  stars  in  the  sky?"  rejoined 
Veronique,  vehemently.  "Who  wrote:  'Confess  ye 
one  to  another"?  was  it  not  our  Saviour's  immediate 
disciples?  Let  me  confess  my  shame  publicly,  on 
my  knees.  In  that  way  I  shall  set  right  my  offences 
against  the  whole  world,  against  a  family  outlawed 
and  almost  exterminated  by  my  fault.  The  world 
must  know  that  my  benefactions  are  not  an  offering, 
but  a  debt  that  I  am  paying.  Suppose  that,  after  I 
am  dead,  some  disclosure  tears  away  the  lying  veil 
that  covers  me? — Ah!  that  thought  hastens  the  final 
hour." 

"I  see  selfish  thoughts  in  this,  my  child,"  said 
the  archbishop,  gravely.  "  Very  strong  passions 
are  still  alive  in  you;  the  passion  that  I  thought 
extinct  is — " 

"Oh!  I  swear  to  you,  monseigneur,"  she  said, 
interrupting  the  prelate  and  gazing  at  him  with  eyes 
that  were  paralyzed  with  horror,  "my  heart  is  as 
purified  as  that  of  a  guilty  and  repentant  woman  can 
be:  there  is  no  longer  anything  in  my  whole  being 
save  the  thought  of  God." 

"  Monseigneur,  let  us  allow  divine  justice  to  take 
its  course,"  said  the  cure,  in  a  voice  broken  with 
emotion.  "For  four  years  I  have  been  struggling 
with  this  idea,  it  has  been  the  subject  of  the  only 
disputes  that  have  arisen  between  my  penitent  and 
myself.  My  eyes  have  looked  into  the  very  bottom 
23 


354  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

of  that  heart,  the  earth  has  no  further  claim  there.  If 
the  tears,  the  groans,  the  contrition  of  fifteen  years 
have  dwelt  upon  a  fault  shared  by  two  beings,  do 
not  think  that  there  has  been  the  slightest  trace  of 
carnal  feeling  in  that  long  and  terrible  remorse. 
Memory  long  since  ceased  to  mingle  its  flames 
with  those  of  the  most  fervent  penitence.  Yes, 
such  floods  of  tears  have  extinguished  that  fire, 
fierce  as  it  was.  I  answer,"  he  said,  extending  his 
hand  over  Madame  Graslin's  head,  and  showing  his 
own  eyes  filled  with  tears,  "  I  answer  for  the  purity 
of  this  archangelic  soul.  Moreover,  I  see  in  this 
desire  a  purpose  to  make  reparation  to  an  absent 
family,  which  is  represented  here  to-day,  by  one  of 
those  coincidences  in  which  God's  providence  makes 
itself  manifest." 

Veronique  took  the  cure's  trembling  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

"You  have  very  often  been  harsh  to  me,  dear 
pastor,  but  at  this  moment  I  see  where  your  apos- 
tolic gentleness  was  stored  away! — Do  you,"  she 
said,  looking  at  the  archbishop,  "  do  you,  the  su- 
preme head  of  this  corner  of  God's  kingdom,  be  my 
staff  in  this  hour  of  ignominy.  I  shall  kneel  the 
lowest  of  women;  you  will  raise  me,  forgiven  and, 
it  may  be,  the  equal  of  those  who  have  never  fallen." 

The  archbishop  remained  silent,  evidently  weigh- 
ing all  the  arguments  that  his  eagle  eye  discerned. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  cure,  "the  religion  has 
received  some  heavy  blows.  Will  not  this  return  to 
the  ancient  customs,  necessitated  by  the  magnitude 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  355 

of  the  sin  and  the  repentance,  be  a  triumph  which 
will  redound  to  our  credit?" 

"They  will  say  that  we  are  fanatics!  they  will 
say  that  we  demanded  that  this  cruel  scene  should 
be  enacted!" 

And  the  archbishop  resumed  his  meditation. 

At  that  moment,  Horace  Bianchon  and  Roubaud 
returned  to  the  room  after  knocking  at  the  door. 
When  the  door  opened,  Veronique  saw  her  mother, 
her  son,  and  the  whole  household  praying.  The 
cures  from  two  neighboring  parishes  had  come  to 
assist  Monsieur  Bonnet,  and  perhaps  also  to  salute 
the  great  prelate,  whom  the  French  clergy  unani- 
mously supported  for  the  cardinalate,  hoping  that  the 
light  of  his  essentially  Gallican  intellect  would  illu- 
mine the  Holy  College.  Horace  Bianchon  was  about 
to  start  for  Paris;  he  came  to  bid  the  dying  woman 
adieu,  and  to  thank  her  for  her  munificence.  He 
entered  the  room  slowly,  divining  from  the  attitude 
of  the  two  priests  that  they  were  deliberating  con- 
cerning the  method  of  treating  the  disease  of  the 
heart  which  had  caused  that  of  the  body.  He  took 
Veronique's  hand,  placed  it  on  the  bed,  and  felt  her 
pulse.  The  scene  was  made  doubly  solemn  by  the 
most  profound  stillness,  the  stillness  of  a  summer 
night  in  the  country.  The  great  salon,  the  folding- 
doors  of  which  were  left  open,  was  lighted  for  the 
benefit  of  the  small  gathering  of  people  who  were 
praying  there,  all  on  their  knees,  except  the  two 
priests,  who  were  sitting  and  reading  their  brevia- 
ries. Beside  the  magnificent  state  bed  were  the 


356  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

prelate,  in  his  violet  robes,  the  cure,  and  the  two 
men  of  science. 

"She  is  excited  even  in  death!"  said  Horace 
Bianchon,  who,  like  all  men  of  great  talent,  often 
uttered  words  that  were  as  grand  as  the  spectacles 
he  witnessed. 

The  archbishop  rose,  as  if  impelled  by  an  inward 
impulse;  he  called  Monsieur  Bonnet  and  walked  to- 
ward the  door;  they  passed  through  the  chamber 
and  the  salon  and  went  out  on  the  terrace,  where 
they  walked  back  and  forth  for  some  moments. 
When  they  returned,  after  discussing  this  case  of 
ecclesiastical  discipline,  Roubaud  came  to  meet  them. 

"  Monsieur  Bianchon  sends  me  to  bid  you  make 
haste;  Madame  Graslin  is  dying  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment not  due  to  the  excessive  suffering  caused  by 
the  disease." 

The  archbishop  quickened  his  pace,  and  said,  as 
he  entered  the  room,  to  Madame  Graslin,  who  looked 
anxiously  into  his  face: 

"  You  shall  be  gratified  !" 

Bianchon  still  had  his  hand  on  the  patient's  wrist; 
he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  glanced  at 
Roubaud  and  the  two  priests. 

"  Monseigneur,  this  body  is  no  longer  in  our 
domain:  your  words  have  restored  life  where  death 
had  entered.  You  would  make  one  believe  in  mira- 
cles!" 

"For  a  long  time  madame  has  been  all  soul!" 
said  Roubaud,  and  Veronique  thanked  him  with  a 
glance. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  357 

At  that  moment,  a  smile,  in  which  was  depicted  the 
happiness  caused  by  the  thought  of  a  complete  atone- 
ment, restored  to  her  face  the  innocent  expression  it 
had  worn  at  eighteen  years.  All  the  painful  emotions 
inscribed  in  the  deep  wrinkles,  the  leaden  coloring, 
the  livid  marks,  all  the  details  that  made  her  face 
beautiful  with  such  a  ghastly  beauty  when  it  ex- 
pressed grief  alone,  in  a  word,  the  changes  of  every 
sort  disappeared;  it  seemed  to  all  who  saw  her  that 
Veronique  had  worn  a  mask  hitherto  and  that  that 
mask  had  fallen.  For  the  last  time  occurred  this 
marvellous  phenomenon  whereby  that  woman's  face 
expressed  her  life  and  her  feelings.  Everything  in 
her  was  purified,  illumined,  and  there  was  upon  her 
features  something  like  a  reflection  of  the  flaming 
swords  of  the  guardian  angels  who  surrounded  her. 
Once  more  she  was  what  she  was  when  Limoges 
called  her  the  fair  Madame  Graslin.  The  love  of 
God  made  itself  manifest,  more  powerful  than  guilty 
love  had  ever  been:  the  latter  formerly  placed  in 
relief  all  the  forces  of  life,  the  other  put  aside  all 
the  weakness  of  death.  A  stifled  cry  was  heard: 
La  Sauviat  appeared  and  rushed  to  the  bedside, 
exclaiming: 

"At  last  I  see  my  child  once  more!" 

The  old  woman's  expression  as  she  uttered  those 
words,  "  my  child,"  recalled  so  vividly  the  primitive 
innocence  of  children,  that  the  spectators  of  that 
noble  death  turned  their  heads  away  to  conceal  their 
emotion.  The  illustrious  physician  took  Madame 
Graslin's  hand  and  kissed  it,  then  went  away.  The 


358  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

sound  of  his  carriage  wheels  broke  the  profound 
silence,  saying  that  there  was  no  hope  of  preserving 
the  soul  of  that  country-side.  The  archbishop,  the 
cure,  the  physician,  all  those  who  were  conscious 
of  fatigue,  went  to  take  a  little  rest  when  Madame 
Graslin  herself  fell  asleep  for  a  few  hours.  She 
awoke  at  dawn,  asking  that  her  windows  might  be 
opened.  She  wished  to  see  the  rising  of  her  last 
sun. 

At  ten  o'clock,  the  archbishop,  clad  in  his  pon- 
tifical robes,  came  to  Madame  Graslin's  chamber. 
The  prelate  and  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  such  abso- 
lute confidence  in  that  woman,  that  they  said 
nothing  to  her  as  to  the  limits  within  which 
she  should  confine  her  disclosures.  Veronique  no- 
ticed an  assemblage  of  clergymen  more  numerous 
than  the  church  of  Montegnac  could  accommodate, 
for  those  from  all  the  neighboring  communes  had 
come  to  the  village.  Monseigneur  was  to  be  as- 
sisted by  four  cures.  The  magnificent  altar  orna- 
ments, presented  by  Madame  Graslin  to  her  beloved 
parish,  gave  great  brilliancy  to  the  ceremony.  Eight 
choir  boys,  in  their  red  and  white  costumes,  were 
drawn  up  in  two  lines  from  the  bed  to  the  salon, 
each  of  them  holding  one  of  the  enormous  candle- 
sticks of  gilded  bronze  that  Veronique  had  had  sent 
from  Paris.  The  cross  and  banner  of  the  church 
were  held  by  two  white-haired  sacristans  on  each 
side  of  the  platform  on  which  the  bed  stood. 
Thanks  to  the  zeal  of  the  servants  of  the  chateau, 
the  wooden  altar,  taken  from  the  sacristy,  was 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  359 

placed  beside  the  door  of  the  salon,  all  decorated 
and  prepared,  so  that  monseigneur  could  say  mass 
there.  Madame  Graslin  was  touched  by  these  at- 
tentions, which  the  Church  accords  only  to  royal- 
ties. 

The  two  wings  of  the  door  opening  into  the  dining- 
room  were  thrown  open,  so  that  she  could  see  the 
whole  ground-floor  of  her  chateau  filled  with  a  large 
part  of  the  population  of  the  village.  Her  friends 
had  provided  for  everything,  for  the  salon  was  occu- 
pied exclusively  by  the  servants  of  her  household. 
In  front,  grouped  before  the  door  of  her  bedroom, 
were  her  chosen  friends  and  those  persons  upon 
whose  discretion  reliance  could  be  placed.  Mes- 
sieurs Grossetete,  De  Granville,  Roubaud,  Gerard, 
Clousier,  and  Ruffin  took  their  places  in  the  first 
row.  They  were  all  to  rise  at  the  proper  moment 
and  remain  standing  to  prevent  the  voice  of  the 
penitent  being  heard  by  any  others  than  themselves. 
There  was  another  circumstance,  fortunate  for  the 
dying  woman:  her  friends'  sobs  drowned  her  words. 

In  front  of  all  the  others  were  two  persons  who 
presented  an  imposing  spectacle.  The  first  was 
Denise  Tascheron:  her  garments  of  quaker-like  sim- 
plicity made  her  unrecognizable  to  those  of  the  vil- 
lagers who  could  see  her;  but  to  the  other  personage 
she  was  an  acquaintance  not  easily  forgotten,  and 
her  appearance  was  a  terrifying  gleam  of  light.  The 
procureur-general  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  truth;  he 
suddenly  became  aware  of  the  role  he  had  played 
with  Madame  Graslin  in  all  its  significance.  Less 


360  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

dominated  than  the  others  by  the  religious  question, 
in  his  capacity  of  child  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  magistrate  was  conscious  of  a  pang  of  intense 
horror  at  his  heart,  for  he  was  able  then  to  compre- 
hend the  drama  of  Veronique's  secret  life  at  the 
hotel  Graslin  during  the  Tascheron  trial.  That 
tragic  epoch  recurred  to  his  memory,  illumined  by 
old  La  Sauviat's  eyes,  which,  gleaming  with  hatred, 
fell  upon  him  like  two  streams  of  molten  lead;  that 
old  woman,  standing  within  ten  steps  of  him,  forgave 
nothing.  That  man,  the  representative  of  human 
justice,  shuddered.  Pale,  wounded  to  the  heart,  he 
dared  not  turn  his  eyes  to  the  bed  where  the  woman 
he  had  loved  so  well,  lying  livid  under  the  hand  of 
death,  derived  the  strength  to  hold  the  death-agony 
at  bay  from  the  very  magnitude  of  her  sin;  and 
Veronique's  emaciated  profile,  standing  sharply  out 
against  the  red  damask,  gave  him  the  vertigo.  At 
eleven  o'clock  the  mass  began.  When  the  epistle 
had  been  read  by  the  cure  of  Vizay,  the  archbishop 
laid  aside  his  dalmatic  and  took  his  stand  in  the 
doorway. 

"Christians,  gathered  together  here  to  witness 
the  ceremony  of  extreme  unction  which  we  are  about 
to  confer  upon  the  mistress  of  this  house,"  he  said; 
"  you  who  add  your  prayers  to  those  of  the  Church, 
to  intercede  for  her  with  God,  and  to  obtain  her 
everlasting  salvation,  are  now  informed  that  she 
does  not  deem  herself  worthy,  at  this  supreme  hour, 
to  receive  the  blessed  viaticum  until  she  has  made, 
for  the  edification  of  her  neighbor,  public  confession 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  361 

of  the  greatest  of  her  sins.  We  have  resisted  her 
pious  wish,  although  that  act  of  contrition  was  long 
customary  in  the  early  days  of  Christianity;  but  as 
this  poor  woman  has  told  us  that  the  rehabilita- 
tion of  an  unhappy  child  of  this  parish  is  involved 
herein,  we  leave  her  at  liberty  to  follow  the  inspira- 
tion of  her  repentance." 

Having  uttered  these  words  with  fervent  pastoral 
dignity,  the  archbishop  turned  to  give  place  to  Vero- 
nique.  The  dying  woman  appeared,  supported  by 
her  aged  mother  and  the  cure,  two  grand  and  vener- 
able images:  did  she  not  owe  her  body  to  her  earthly 
mother  and  her  soul  to  her  spiritual  mother,  the 
Church?  She  knelt  upon  a  cushion,  clasped  her 
hands,  and  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  col- 
lecting strength  to  speak  from  some  spring  supplied 
by  Heaven.  At  that  moment  there  was  something 
indefinably  terrifying  in  the  silence.  No  one  dared 
to  glance  at  his  neighbor.  All  eyes  were  cast  down. 
But  Veronique's  eyes,  when  she  raised  them,  met 
those  of  the  procureur-general,  and  the  expression 
upon  that  face,  now  perfectly  white,  made  her  blush. 

"  I  could  not  die  in  peace,"  said  Veronique,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  "  if  I  should  leave  behind  me  the 
false  image  of  myself  which  each  one  of  you  who 
listen  to  me  may  have  formed.  You  see  in  me  a 
great  criminal,  who  commends  herself  to  your 
prayers,  and  who  seeks  to  make  herself  worthy 
of  forgiveness  by  the  public  confession  of  her  sin. 
That  sin  was  so  grave,  it  had  such  fatal  results, 
that  no  penance,  perhaps,  will  atone  for  it.  But 


362  THE  VILLAGE   CURE 

the  more  humiliations  I  undergo  upon  this  earth, 
the  less  reason  I  shall  have  to  dread  the  divine 
wrath  in  the  heavenly  kingdom  to  which  I  aspire. 
My  father,  who  had  such  perfect  confidence  in  me, 
commended  to  my  favor,  nearly  twenty  years  ago, 
a  child  of  this  parish,  in  whom  he  had  discovered 
a  desire  to  behave  well,  an  aptitude  for  study,  and 
many  excellent  qualities.  That  child  was  the  un- 
fortunate Jean-Francois  Tascheron,  who  became  at- 
tached to  me  as  his  benefactress.  How  did  the 
affection  I  bore  him  become  guilty?  that  is  some- 
thing which  I  think  I  may  be  excused  from  explain- 
ing. Perhaps  you  would  see  the  purest  sentiments 
that  guide  our  actions  here  on  earth  insensibly  turned 
aside  from  their  natural  bent  by  extraordinary  sacri- 
fices, by  reasons  due  to  our  weakness,  by  a  multitude 
of  causes  which  might  seem  to  lessen  the  magnitude 
of  my  sin.  Even  if  the  noblest  sentiments  were  my 
accomplices,  am  I  the  less  guilty  for  that?  I  prefer 
to  admit  that  I,  who  by  reason  of  my  education  and 
my  rank  in  society  might  deem  myself  superior  to 
the  child  whom  my  father  entrusted  to  me,  and  from 
whom  I  was  separated  by  the  delicacy  natural  to  our 
sex,  that. I,  to  my  undoing,  listened  to  the  voice  of 
the  demon.  I  soon  found  myself  far  too  much  that 
young  man's  mother,  to  be  insensible  to  his  silent, 
unobtrusive  admiration.  He  was  the  first  to  appre- 
ciate me  at  my  true  worth.  Perhaps  I  was  myself 
led  astray  by  arguments  horrible  to  think  of:  I 
thought  how  discreet  a  young  man  who  owed  every- 
thing to  me  would  surely  be,  a  young  man,  too, 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  363 

whom  chance  had  placed  so  far  beneath  me,  although 
we  were  equals  in  point  of  birth.  In  a  word,  I  found 
in  my  reputation  for  benevolence  and  my  pious  occu- 
pations a  cloak  to  shelter  my  conduct.  Alas! — and 
that  was  unquestionably  one  of  my  greatest  sins — 
I  concealed  my  passion  in  the  shadow  of  the  altar. 
The  most  virtuous  actions,  the  love  I  bear  my 
mother,  acts  of  genuine  and  sincere  piety  amid  so 
much  straying  from  the  straight  path — I  made  them 
all  serve  the  miserable  triumph  of  an  insane  passion, 
and  they  were  so  many  bonds  that  held  me  fast. 
My  poor,  adored  mother,  who  hears  me  now,  was 
for  a  long  time  an  unwitting,  innocent  accomplice  of 
my  wrong-doing.  When  she  opened  her  eyes,  too 
many  dangerous  steps  had  been  taken  for  her  not 
to  seek  in  her  mother-heart  strength  to  keep  silent. 
Thus,  in  her  case,  silence  became  the  most  exalted 
of  virtues.  Her  love  for  her  daughter  triumphed 
over  her  love  for  God.  Ah!  I  solemnly  relieve  her 
from  the  heavy  burden  she  has  borne.  She  will  end 
her  days  without  a  lie  in  her  eyes  or  on  her  brow. 
May  her  mother-love  be  free  from  reproach,  may  her 
noble  and  sanctified  old  age,  crowned  with  virtues, 
shine  with  all  its  splendor,  and  be  relieved  from  the 
link  by  which  she  has  been  indirectly  connected  with 
so  much  infamy!" 

At  this  point,  tears  choked  Veronique's  voice  for  a 
moment ;  Aline  gave  her  salts  to  smell. 

"  Not  anyone,  even  the  devoted  servant  who  ren- 
ders me  this  last  service,  has  failed  to  be  kinder 
to  me  than  I  deserve,  and  to  pretend,  at  least,  not  to 


364  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

know  what  she  knew;  but  she  has  been  in  the  secret 
of  the  austerities  by  which  I  have  subdued  this  flesh, 
which  was  weak.  Therefore  I  ask  pardon  of  society 
for  having  deceived  it,  impelled  as  I  was  by  the  terri- 
ble logic  of  society.  Jean-Francois  Tascheron  was 
not  so  guilty  as  society  believed.  Ah!  I  implore  all 
you  who  hear  me  to  consider  his  youth  and  a  passion 
inflamed  no  less  by  the  remorse  that  seized  me,  than 
by  involuntary  fascinations.  More  than  that !  It  was 
uprightness,  but  uprightness  ill  applied,  that  caused 
the  greatest  of  all  our  misfortunes.  We  could  neither 
X)f  us  endure  that  constant  deception.  He  appealed 
from  it,  poor  fellow,  to  my  own  pride,  and  sought  to 
render  that  fatal  love  as  little  injurious  as  possible 
to  another.  Thus  I  was  the  cause  of  his  crime.  Im- 
pelled by  necessity,  the  unhappy  man,  guilty  of  too 
great  devotion  to  an  idol,  selected  among  all  possible 
reprehensible  acts  that  one  of  which  the  consequences 
were  irreparable.  I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  the  mo- 
ment that  it  happened.  In  its  execution,  the  hand  of 
God  overthrew  that  whole  scaffolding  of  false  calcu- 
lations. I  returned  home,  having  heard  shrieks  that 
still  echo  in  my  ears,  having  divined  a  murderous 
struggle  which  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  prevent — 
I,  the  cause  of  that  madness.  Tascheron  had  gone 
mad,  I  swear  to  you." 

At  that  point,  Veronique  looked  at  the  procureur- 
general,  and  a  profound  sigh  issued  from  Denise's 
breast. 

"  His  reason  left  him  when  he  saw  what  he  be- 
lieved to  be  his  happiness  destroyed  by  unforeseen 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  365 

circumstances.  The  unhappy  youth,  led  astray  by 
his  heart,  marched  on  from  a  fault  to  a  crime,  and 
from  a  crime  to  a  double  murder.  It  is  certain  that 
he  left  my  mother's  house  an  innocent  man,  he  re- 
turned there  guilty.  I  alone  in  all  the  world  knew 
that  there  was  no  premeditation  nor  any  of  the  aggra- 
vating circumstances  which  led  to  his  death-sentence. 
A  hundred  times  I  started  to  give  myself  up  to  save 
him,  and  a  hundred  times  a  ghastly  heroism,  neces- 
sary and  masterful,  caused  the  words  to  die  upon 
my  lips.  It  may  be  that  my  presence  within  a  few 
steps  contributed  to  inspire  in  him  the  hateful,  the 
infamous,  the  ignoble  courage  of  assassins.  Had  he 
been  alone  he  would  have  fled.  I  had  shaped  that 
soul,  trained  that  mind,  filled  that  heart;  I  knew 
him,  he  was  incapable  of  cowardice  or  baseness. 
Do  justice  to  that  innocent  arm,  do  justice  to  him 
whom  God  in  His  clemency  allows  to  sleep  in  peace 
in  the  grave  you  have  watered  with  your  tears, 
divining  the  truth,  I  doubt  not !  Punish,  curse  the 
culprit  who  is  here  before  you  !  Dismayed  by  the 
crime  when  it  had  been  committed,  I  did  everything 
to  conceal  it.  I  had  been  charged  by  my  father,  I 
who  had  no  children,  to  lead  one  of  them  to  God; 
I  led  him  to  the  scaffold.  Ah!  pour  out  all  your  re- 
proaches upon  me,  crush  me,  now  is  the  time  !" 

As  she  spoke,  her  eyes  gleamed  with  savage  pride. 
The  archbishop,  standing  behind  her  and  protecting 
her  with  his  pastoral  cross,  laid  aside  his  impassive 
attitude  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his  right  hand. 
A  muffled  shriek  was  heard,  as  if  someone  were 


366  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

dying.  Gerard  and  Roubaud  caught  Denise  Tasche- 
ron  in  their  arms,  as  she  fell  in  a  swoon,  and  carried 
her  from  the  room.  That  spectacle  partially  ex- 
tinguished the  fire  in  Veronique's  eyes;  she  was  dis- 
turbed, but  her  martyr's  serenity  soon  reappeared. 

"  You  know  now,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  deserve 
neither  praise  nor  benedictions  for  my  conduct  here. 
To  obtain  admission  into  Heaven,  I  have  led  a  secret 
life  of  agonizing  penances  which  Heaven  will  esti- 
mate at  what  they  are  worth!  My  outward  life  has 
been  one  great  reparation  for  the  evil  I  have  caused. 
I  have  written  my  repentance  in  ineffaceable  lines 
upon  this  estate;  it  will  endure  almost  forever.  It 
is  written  in  the  fertilized  fields,  in  the  greater  size 
of  the  village,  in  the  streams  guided  from  the  moun- 
tains to  this  plain,  formerly  wild  and  untilled,  now 
green  and  fruitful.  Not  a  tree  will  be  cut  here  for  a 
hundred  years  to  come  that  the  people  will  not  re- 
member the  remorse  to  which  they  owe  its  shade! 
Thus  this  repentant  soul,  which  would  have  ani- 
mated a  long  life,  beneficial  to  this  canton,  will  long 
breathe  among  you.  All  that  you  would  have  owed 
to  his  talents,  to  a  fortune  worthily  acquired,  has 
been  performed  by  the  heir  of  his  repentance,  by 
her  who  caused  his  crime.  Everything  that  con- 
cerns society  has  been  atoned  for;  I  alone  bear  the 
burden  of  that  life,  cut  off  in  its  flower,  which  had 
been  entrusted  to  me  and  for  which  I  am  to  be  held 
responsible!" 

Again  tears  dimmed  the  flame  of  her  glance.  She 
paused. 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  367 

"  There  is  a  man  among  you,  who,  because  he  did 
his  duty  strictly,  has  been  to  me  the  object  of  a 
detestation  which  I  believed  to  be  undying,"  she 
resumed.  "  He  was  the  first  instrument  of  my 
punishment.  I  was  too  near  the  deed,  my  feet  were 
too  deep  in  blood  for  me  not  to  hate  the  law.  So 
long  as  that  seed  of  wrath  flourished  in  my  heart,  I 
realized  that  there  was  a  remnant  of  blameworthy 
passion  there;  I  had  nothing  to  forgive,  I  simply 
purged  that  corner  where  the  Evil  One  was  hiding. 
Painful  as  the  victory  has  been,  it  is  complete." 

The  procureur-general  showed  Veronique  a  face 
wet  with  tears.  Human  justice  seemed  to  be  suffer- 
ing from  remorse.  When  the  penitent  turned  her 
head  in  order  to  continue,  she  met  the  tear-bedewed 
face  of  an  old  man,  Grossete'te,  who  put  out  his 
hands  imploringly,  as  if  to  say:  "  Enough!"  At  that 
moment,  that  sublime  creature  heard  such  a  concert 
of  weeping,  and  was  so  moved  by  such  an  outpour- 
ing of  sympathy,  that  she  could  not  endure  the 
balm  of  that  general  pardon,  but  was  seized  with  an 
attack  of  faintness;  seeing  that  the  source  of  her 
strength  had  failed  her,  her  old  mother  recovered 
her  youthful  strength  once  more  to  carry  her  to  the 
bed. 

"Christians,"  said  the  archbishop,  "you  have 
heard  this  penitent's  confession;  she  confirms  the 
sentence  of  the  law,  and  her  words  may  set  at  rest 
the  scruples  or  the  anxiety  of  its  officers.  You  must 
have  found  herein  fresh  motives  for  adding  your 
prayers  to  those  of  the  Church,  which  offers  to  God 


368  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

the  blessed  sacrifice  of  the  mass  in  order  to  implore 
His  pity  in  favor  of  such  a  signal  repentance." 

The  service  was  resumed;  Veronique  followed  it 
with  an  expression  which  denoted  such  inward  satis- 
faction, that  she  seemed  to  all  eyes  to  be  a  different 
woman.  There  was  an  innocent  look  upon  her  face, 
worthy  of  the  pure  and  ingenuous  maiden  she  had 
been  in  the  old  paternal  home.  The  dawn  of  eter- 
nity was  already  whitening  her  forehead  and  gilding 
her  face  with  celestial  tints.  Doubtless  she  heard 
bursts  of  mystic  melody,  and  gathered  strength 
to  live  from  her  longing  to  be  united  to  God  at 
last;  the  cure  Bonnet  came  to  the  bedside  and 
gave  her  absolution;  the  archbishop  administered 
the  consecrated  oil  with  a  paternal  affection  that 
revealed  to  all  those  present  how  dear  to  his  heart 
was  that  wandering  lamb  now  returned  to  the 
fold.  With  blessed  ointment  the  priest  closed  to  the 
things  of  this  earth  those  eyes  that  had  done  so 
much  harm,  and  placed  the  seal  of  the  Church  on 
the  too  eloquent  lips.  The  ears,  through  which  evil 
suggestions  had  found  their  way,  were  closed  for- 
ever. All  the  senses,  benumbed  by  penance,  were 
thus  sanctified,  and  the  spirit  of  evil  was  left  with- 
out power  over  that  soul.  Never  did  spectators 
more  fully  understand  the  grandeur  and  solemnity 
of  a  sacrament  than  those  who  saw  the  labors  of  the 
Church  justified  by  that  dying  woman's  confession. 
Thus  prepared,  Veronique  received  the  body  of 
Jesus  Christ  with  an  expression  of  hope  and  joy 
which  melted  the  ice  of  incredulity  which  had  so 


THE  VILLAGE   CURE  369 

often  baffled  the  cure:  Roubaud,  abashed,  became  a 
Catholic  in  a  moment !  That  spectacle  was  at  once 
touching  and  awful ;  but  it  was  made  so  solemn  by 
virtue  of  the  arrangement  of  the  accessories  that  the 
painter's  art  might  have  found  there  a  subject  for  a 
genuine  masterpiece. 

When,  after  that  sorrowful  episode,  the  dying 
woman  heard  the  words  of  the  Gospel  of  Saint  John 
commenced,  she  motioned  to  her  mother  to  bring  her 
son,  who  had  been  led  into  the  room  by  his  tutor. 
When  she  saw  Francis  kneeling  on  the  platform,  the 
pardoned  mother  thought  that  she  was  entitled  to 
place  her  hands  upon  his  head  to  bless  him;  then 
she  breathed  her  last.  Old  La  Sauviat  was  there,  at 
her  post,  as  for  twenty  years  past.  That  woman, 
heroic  in  her  way,  closed  the  eyes  of  her  daughter, 
who  had  suffered  so,  and  kissed  them  one  after 
the  other.  All  the  priests,  followed  by  the  clergy, 
surrounded  the  bed.  By  the  bright  light  of  the 
tapers,  they  intoned  the  awe-inspiring  De  Profundis, 
the  strains  of  which  informed  the  people  kneeling 
in  front  of  the  chateau,  the  friends  who  were  pray- 
ing in  the  various  rooms,  and  all  the  servants,  that 
the  mother  of  that  canton  was  no  more.  The  chant 
was  accompanied  by  universal  lamentations  and 
weeping.  That  noble  woman's  confession  had  not 
been  heard  beyond  the  doorway  of  the  salon,  and 
had  had  only  friendly  ears  for  auditors.  When  the 
peasants  from  the  neighborhood,  mingled  with  those 
of  Montegnac,  came,  praying  and  weeping,  one  by 
one,  to  bid  their  benefactress  a  last  adieu,  with  a 
24 


370  THE  VILLAGE  CURE 

green  branch,  they  saw  an  officer  of  the  law  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  holding  the  cold  hand  of  the 
woman  whom  he  had  so  unwittingly,  but  so  justly, 
wounded. 

Two  days  later,  the  procureur-general,  Grosset§te, 
the  archbishop,  and  the  mayor,  holding  the  four 
corners  of  the  pall,  escorted  Madame  Graslin's  body 
to  its  last  resting-place.  It  was  laid  in  the  grave 
amid  a  profound  silence.  Not  a  word  was  spoken, 
no  one  had  strength  to  speak,  every  eye  was  filled 
with  tears.  "  She  is  a  saint !"  was  a  remark  made 
on  all  sides  as  they  went  away  along  the  roads  built 
by  her  in  the  canton  she  had  enriched — a  remark 
made  to  her  creations  as  if  to  give  them  life.  No  one 
thought  it  strange  that  Madame  Graslin  should  be 
buried  beside  the  body  of  Jean-Francois  Tascheron; 
she  did  not  ask  it;  but  the  old  mother,  with  a  remnant 
of  loving  pity,  had  requested  the  sacristan  to  place 
together  those  whom  earth  had  so  violently  separated, 
and  who  were  united,  by  repentance  for  the  same 
sin,  in  purgatory. 

Madame  Graslin's  will  realized  all  anticipations  con- 
cerning it.  She  endowed  scholarships  at  the  College 
of  Limoges,  and  beds  at  the  hospital,  for  the  benefit  of 
workingmen  alone;  she  set  aside  a  considerable  sum, 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  in  six  years,  for  the 
purchase  of  that  part  of  the  village  called  Les  Tas- 
cherons,  where  she  provided  that  a  hospital  should  be 
built.  That  hospital,  for  the  indigent  old  people  of 
the  canton,  for  the  sick,  for  women  in  want  at  the 
time  of  their  confinement,  and  for  foundlings,  was  to 


THE  VILLAGE  CURE  371 

be  called  the  hospital  of  Les  Tascherons;  Veronique 
wished  it  to  be  carried  on  by  the  Gray  Sisters,  and 
fixed  the  salaries  of  the  physician  and  the  surgeon 
at  four  thousand  francs.  She  requested  Roubaud  to 
be  the  first  physician  of  the  institution,  entrusting 
him  to  select  the  surgeon  and  to  superintend  the 
carrying  out  of  her  plan,  conjointly  with  Gerard, 
who  was  to  be  the  architect.  She  gave,  in  addition, 
to  the  commune  of  Montegnac,  an  amount  of  tillage 
land  sufficient  to  pay  its  taxes  to  the  State.  The 
Church,  endowed  with  a  relief  fund,  to  be  used  in  cer- 
tain exceptional  cases,  was  to  exercise  oversight  over 
young  men,  and  to  be  on  the  watch  for  natives  of 
Montegnac  who  manifested  an  inclination  for  the  arts, 
sciences,  or  manufacturing.  The  judicious  benevo- 
lence of  the  testatrix  provided  what  sum  was  to  be 
taken  from  that  fund  to  encourage  such  inclinations. 

The  news  of  her  death,  which  was  everywhere 
received  as  a  calamity,  was  accompanied  by  no  in- 
sinuations insulting  to  her  memory.  That  reserve 
was  an  act  of  homage  rendered  to  such  eminent 
virtue  by  that  hard-working  Catholic  people,  who 
are  beginning  anew  in  that  corner  of  France  the 
miracles  of  the  Edifying  Letters. 

Gerard,  appointed  guardian  of  Francis  Graslin, 
and  required  by  the  will  to  live  at  the  chateau,  took 
up  his  abode  there,  but  not  until  three  months  after 
Veronique's  death  did  he  marry  Denise  Tascheron, 
in  whom  Francis  found  a  second  mother. 

Paris,  January  1837— March  1845. 


LIST  OF  ETCHINGS 


VOLUME  XXXIX 

PAGE 

PUBLIC  CONFESSION  OF  MME.  GRASLIN  .    .     Fronts. 

THE  APPEAL  TO  THE  CURE 136 

ON  THE  TERRACE  AT  MONTEGNAC 184 

FARRABESCHE  TO  MME.  GRASLIN 200 

MME.  GRASLIN,  CATHERINE,  AND  M.  GROSSETETE  .  296 


39  C.  H.,  The  Cure,  N.  &  R.  373 


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